Sister Angelique and the Outlaw
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2015 by Scarlett Griffin

Western Sex Story: Chapter 1 - An odd combination but love and lust knows no bounds.

Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   NonConsensual   Heterosexual   Western   Spanking   Humiliation   Clergy   Violent  

The journey west had suddenly fallen apart into a complete disaster for Sister Angelique and she knew down deep in her soul that it probably retribution from on high for her indecent thoughts about the young males pressing their private parts into the leather saddles with enthusiastic abandon in every direction. She had taken holy orders after constant urging from her parents who were certain they would not get through the gates of heaven unless they turned over at least one of their offspring to Holy Mother Church for service to the almighty.

She had wanted desperately to sample the sins of the flesh before her being packed off to the convent but the opportunity never seemed to arise and she was only able to get some fumbling about with hard dicks and being sprayed with the sticky stuff that boys shot out in happy exuberance when they were touched and tingled in the right place. It was entirely a failure from her point of view but her virginity was still intact despite her attempts to rectify her status.

Her beloved companion, Sister Immaculata had mysteriously fallen by the wayside at the way station a short distance from the rough and tumble town called Abilene that had sporadic outbursts of gunfire in the middle of the night both nights that they had stayed there waiting for a free stagecoach too carry them further on their journey to San Antonio, Texas and the new school that had been commissioned by the Bishop for the Spanish and Indian parishioners of the fast growing city. Her constant retching from the swaying coach was a burden to all of the passengers but Sister Angelique tended to her as best she could under the circumstances.

"Sister Angelique, I fear that I must either get off of this conveyance or certainly perish by God's will in a most ignominious manner."

The stagecoach driver was justifiably irritated but he allowed them to stop at the way station long enough to arrange transportation on a goods caravan back to the railhead for Sister Immaculata to get some medicine and medical advice about her condition.

She re-boarded the stagecoach and tried not to think too hard about the fact that she was now a lone female in the company of numerous hooligans suffering from lack of female companionship to ease their manly needs for solace of their urge to procreate or just get that tingle they remembered with great fondness. Sister Angelique didn't know the first thing about such matters but it seemed to her that she was being wasted by not being able to give such solace even though her vows expressly forbade such carrying-on.

They were into their second day on the trail southwest when the stagecoach was flagged down by a tall dusty stranger with a saddle hooked over his shoulder and a rifle in his other hand seeking transport to the next town to purchase a new horse to replace his expired mount. The driver seemed a bit nervous because he knew the young man previously from a place called Dodge City and he seemed anxious to please the stranger and grant his wish even though the coach was completely filled. Sister Angelique heard the driver call the man "The Kid" to the shotgun driver and she was surprised because he certainly didn't look anything like a kid. The saddle was swung up to the top of the coach and tied down by the shotgun rider who was expressly hired to protect the shipment of gold coins from the mint in Philadelphia. The guard was a silent shadow who seemed unhappy at the thought of the man joining their entourage but he made no comment because the addition of another gun to their defensive posture was welcome.

Even though the man tried to slap off the trail dust from his exterior, he was still a large thick bulk of humanity now seated at their feet in the small coach between the shiny black shoes of a drummer from back east and the robes of Sister Angelique covering her quivering knees now being touched with familiar male closeness by the lanky stranger. She was glad her cowl partially hid her face because she was certain she was blushing something fierce from the intimate proximity to sweaty and raw scented maleness literally at her very feet. She started to recite her prayers hoping that her thoughts would quickly turn away from the vision of his hardened shaft spreading her legs wide open for entry and ultimate loss of her virginity.

The drummer passed around a sample of his "goods" which turned out to be a whiskey brewed in Newfoundland by a family that had emigrated from Scotland shortly after the conclusion of the American Revolution. They were well-known in the eastern states for their superior product and the drummer would have no difficulty in obtaining orders from every watering hole between Saint Louis and San Antonio.

At first, Sister Angelique was reluctant to take the tiny metal cup with the high octane spirits inside but she felt it would be rude to turn it down and gulped it in one swallow. That turned out to be a bit of a mistake for her untested digestive tract and she was on a quick buzz before she knew what hit her. The pretty nun slid down low on the bench and her knees were soon bouncing around his ears and neck like she was trying his head on for size to see how well it fit between her legs. The young man looked up and saw that she was one of those religious people that were coming out to the west to convert the Indians to the straight and narrow. He wanted to tell her to be careful with them because the "Real Indians" didn't hang around the forts or the towns but did their level best to remain free on the prairie and away from the double-crossing white man.

"The Kid" knew it wouldn't be proper to address a lone female out on the plains without an introduction so he settled for allowing his head to rest with familiar ease right between her knees and let her squeeze his shoulder length hair up hard against his ears like a glove of female scented perfume. He could hear her moaning in her sleep and every now and then her legs would tighten up and he could feel her pelvis twitch with a distinct motion that brought a smile to his unshaven face. The drummer was in a deep sleep from sampling too much of his own product. The recently married couple with eastern duds and shoes that would be a disaster if they had to walk in them was sort of hunched up around each other like lovers in a rowboat tossed and turned in a rough sea.

The long lean cowboy started to roll a smoke trying his best not to disturb the religious-garbed female behind him. He liked the feel of her legs wrapped around him even if it did cause him to stretch his tight riding jeans forced to make way for his swelling erection. He hadn't poked a female for some time now because he had been chasing a pair of escaped felons that had not only robbed several banks along the railway but had interfered with a female teller and even the wife of one of the bankers while performing their dastardly crimes. Both times they had mounted the church-going decent females right in front of all the witnesses forcing them to submit in public like common tramps.

The "Kid" was not overly concerned about the bank robberies but the affront to the dignity of womanhood was enough to get his blood to the boiling point. He had lost his own mother to an evil landlord who extracted his "rent" by degrading her in front of her son right up until the time that the Kid put a bullet between his depraved eyes.

He was termed an "outlaw" after that unfortunate incident but no decent lawman wanted to get credit for bringing in a young man for doing what needed to be done in the name of common decency and righteousness.

As time went on, the Kid just followed a trail somewhere between upholding the law and breaking the law leaving most with a sense he was usually more right than wrong. Right now, he was working for a detective agency out of Kansas City that made a profit from hunting down wanted criminals and collecting the bounties on their heads from law enforcement officials close to a telegraph office. The "dead or alive" clause was sort of a joke because no bounty hunter in his right mind would try to take one of those desperate men alive because they would most likely seek revenge at a later date.

Angelique woke up with the realization that there was a man between her legs and it caused her face to blush in a way that would advertise her virginal status to any knowing female within in viewing distance. Fortunately, the only other female in this case was sound asleep on her new groom's shoulder dreaming sweet dreams of taking it from behind like one of the mares on her daddy's farm. Her own dreams were distressingly similar but she had to keep that secret well hidden inside because of her role as a young woman dedicated to teaching and service to the Church in all matters. She wanted to confess her sins to the nearest possible priest but knew she would not find one like Father Mulligan who had bared her bottom right after she had bared her soul and administered a penance with his thick leather belt after each disclosure of her inner thoughts regarding sexual matters. It was beautiful how the bite of the strap ignited her inner core with proper contrition and made her determined to shake off her disgusting need to dwell on the length and girth of male cocks within viewing distance. She felt that she was a disgrace to the order and that the priest's actions were well intended and welcome from her point of view because she needed to be cleansed of such frivolous and inappropriate thoughts unworthy of a daughter of the Church.

They rested at the way station and the driver and the shotgun guard helped the station master change the horses for the final leg of the journey into Perdition, a town about halfway to San Antonio. The way station was rudimentary and the fare was basic with only beans in a sort of gravy along with a single strip of pork to give it flavor.

Sister Angelique gobbled it down because she had forgotten to eat what with Sister Immaculata in such a state of complete distress and left behind to her own devices. She wanted to stay with her but the other nun insisted that at least one of them continue to the destination to fulfill their contract to teach the children of the faithful.

The Kid pulled up a chair and sat next to Sister Angelique because she was sort of shunned by the others just because of her required dress for a traveling nun in those days and violent times. Not even her ankles were visible under the loose and flowing robes and her cowl hid her hair so well that one was left with the question of whether she had any hair at all.

Sister Angelique didn't mind the Kid sitting right next to her. In fact, she rather liked it because she could see his bulge up nice and close and the manly scent of his skin and flesh seared like a red hot poker in her private parts making her warm and cuddly down deep inside.

There was no doubt in her mind that her religious calling was the last thing on her mind when he was next to her like that and it was both exciting and scary to realize just how lacking in religious dedication she was when he was almost close enough to touch.

The heated young girl went out back to cool down with a bucket of water to wash her flushed skin and drew the attention of the drummer who took advantage of the situation to run his evil-minded fingers over her momentarily exposed flanks like a horse trader testing the stamina of a possible purchase. She shuddered at the effrontery but did not scream because she did not want to expose the extent of her humiliation.

The Kid picked the drummer up by the seat of his pants and dumped him unceremoniously into the horse though like a sack of potatoes. Angelique had to giggle at the sight and thanked the Kid for saving her from further indignity.

When they got back on the stagecoach, Sister Angelique spread her knees open to accept the Kid's head and she even slid a little further forward on the bench so his hair was almost touching her private parts. However, she refrained from reaching out and touching him because that would be unseemly in such a public scenario. The swaying of the stagecoach and the bumpy road underneath was all she needed to trigger the release that hit her like a ton of bricks more than once on the journey into Perdition.

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