Chapter 1

I poured the whiskey with a shaky hand because I hadn't had a drop of the good stuff for the better part of a day. That was unusual for me because I generally ran on the rotgut to keep me on track and make my brain work satisfactorily. I knew my tolerance level was fairly high because of the years of imbibing too much and too often.

My female companion of these past few months was "Big lips" Kate who made a point of telling everyone she met with a few minutes that she was really French and not an American like everyone else. She did speak with a French accent but I had my suspicions that it was all just an act to squeeze more gold from the miners and greenbacks from the cowboys looking for a soft sweet treat to liven up their short lives.

She was with me primarily because I fed her greedy kitty with enough cash to make her purr with joy and I humped her all hell for leather when the mood struck me. I loved the way she had all these airs of being true aristocracy and her affectations of a royal background but when the lights went down she was a real spitfire that needed her hole filled hard and fast.

I guess I got plumb tuckered out more often than not unable to keep up with her demands and I didn't object when she went looking for more available cock in those places that catered to females of dubious character and behavior. I caught her one time getting it in her rump by some tinhorn card sharp who couldn't palm an ace to save his life. I have to admit I was more amused at the fellow's enthusiasm in pinning her against the wall than I was in her apparent loss of dignity by taking it up the ass.

We were both relaxing in the room before the card game started downstairs in the saloon and I watched her adjusting her female undies and powdering her privates with the special "French" nice smelling female powder imported all the way from Paris, France. I have to admit she did smell downright inviting every time she used the stuff before we visited the game room. I have been on a winning streak ever since I hooked up with Kate and she was sort of a good luck charm even if she found it necessary to find "backup" cock every now and then to keep her fires stoked nicely.

She had asked me once or twice if I might enjoy an excursion up her rear portal of love with a whine in her voice and a look in her eye that was not present in a decent female's expression but I found it a bit disgusting and below a real "lady's" sense of appropriate behavior. She told me that she had become addicted to the backside style of loving when she had worked in a brothel down in New Orleans and that all the fine gentlemen seemed to prefer screwing their playmates in that unnatural opening just to hear them squeal and grunt as they lost their dignity and pride under the weight of the paying customer. She was of the opinion that most females liked the practice but were afraid to admit it because it made them seem crude and depraved even to the rough crowd in such places. I felt that she was mistaken because most women asked to bend over for such a treat had been in my experience far less than enthusiastic. I had countless objects like shoes, glasses and even bottles thrown at me for the depraved suggestion by many a young lady. Fortunately, I am the type that always bounces back and usually was "back in the saddle" before very long.

Everybody calls me "Doc" because in point of fact I graduated from medical school back east with honors and got my training in the trenches of the Civil War at places like Gettysburg and Shiloh. I had done more amputations than a butcher at the meat market in Philadelphia, Pee A.

I kind of lost my drive to be a medical person after that and sort of drifted into card playing as a life style choice because my favorite vices were cards, women and booze but not necessarily in that order. Somewhere along the way I had developed a tricky case of angina that weakened me without warning from time to time. I had taken Kate as my companion because despite her many faults and her needy pussy that found just one cock lacking, she knew how to monitor me for my pill taking and was strict with me when she saw I was getting into one of those "moments" of weakness. It helped to have her mouth and slit handy to keep me from hunting down other willing receptacles of the flesh and over-indulging when it was not a good idea for my health. She also kept me from excess imbibing except for those times when I needed a vast infusion of the spirits to drive away the bloody visions in my mind of men without arms or legs.

I followed Kate down the stairs watching all the male eyes ogling her and raping her in their dirty minds. She did look resplendent in her Paris imported finery and when she walked her sensuous movement made men's cocks take note. Other women around Kate all seemed lackluster in comparison.

The saloon was crowded this evening.

There was a cattle drive just arrived in town and the bar was jammed with dirty, dusty cowboys eager to spend their pay on booze and a shot at one of the whores that worked for the "house" on a commission basis. They made certain their companion for the evening kept drinking and even gambling at the tables and eventually got him all naked in one of the upstairs bedrooms for a ride that he would remember for quite a long time. Those girls didn't last long at the trade because the men were all on the rough side and tended to wear the girls out with their demands and their heavy hands. I had once owned a similar establishment down Wichita way and discovered you were lucky to get a full season out of them before they faded into the background as a farmer's wife or one of the females washing clothes working next to squaws and slant-eyed girls from across the Pacific Ocean. That was usually the end of the road for them unless they hooked up with some "desperate for pussy" recluse from some Godforsaken outpost devoid of the female touch.