Chapter 1

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Coercion, Blackmail, Heterosexual, Fiction, Spanking, Humiliation, Group Sex, Interracial, White Male, Hispanic Female, Indian Female, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Cream Pie, Public Sex, Violent, Prostitution, Military, Cat-Fighting, .

Desc: Erotic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The Civil War was just starting and I was fortunate enough to be sent west to an isolated Fort away from the heavy fighting back east. Of course, I hadn't counted on the Indians who were picking that same time to rise up against the Cavalry. Then a pretty widow stepped in my path and my quiet existence was forever shattered.

This post that I got transferred to was an outpost in hell and that was a fact. I knew I got sent here because wouldn't volunteer to do the grave-digging duty up behind the headquarters hospital but I couldn't bear to be near those corpses any more than necessary for common courtesy.

My name was the only name on the set of orders that got cut sometime in the middle of the night right after I managed to rile the first sergeant past his "blowing off steam" point so I knew it was most likely my reluctance to be in close proximity to the bodies brought in from the battlefield not that far from the nation's capital. Now that I have had some time to think about it, an assignment out west might be just the thing I needed to survive the coming chaos in the east what with the "Johnny Rebs" raising a ruckus all over the place.

I wrote a letter to my Ma up Boston way so she wouldn't worry about me getting shot by some slave-owning plantation owner from down south. I didn't really know any slave-owners or any plantation owners for that matter but I heard tell they were a nasty breed of back-shooters.

The Military Police unit even sent an escort to make certain I got on the train heading out to Kansas City but I purely didn't have it on my mind to disobey a direct order even if it was sheer spite from the Irishman sergeant's evil mind. He didn't like me because my name sounded a lot like some English gentleman. If the truth be known, I certainly was not English and I was not a gentleman. I was Irish just like him but we had lived in England a long time and my folks had changed their name from O'Malley to Marlborough just to fit in and not be thought lacking in proper manners. They even called me John in front of everyone when we all knew my name was Jack.

The train was busting at the seams with folks all heading west to get away from the fighting as the Rebels came closer and closer to the city. I had seen the troops and equipment being transported into the surrounding camps and I figured the war wouldn't last that long because all those farm boys produced was cotton and little bastard children running around not knowing who their real daddy really was. I had five sisters at home and I knew my father was perturbed about their keeping their knees crossed until they could get some fellow to say, "I do". A lot of young men were doing that more often because they could get a deferment if they had a wife with a baby on the way. Of course, the rich folks could just pay for a substitute just off the ship to take their place for a tidy little sum of cash.

I found a seat at the back end of the train but it was near the open caboose and pretty much out of the way of the soot that seemed to catch the first few cars. An older woman was seated near the window and I could see she was already wearing black so she must have been unfortunate enough to lose her husband in the opening salvos of the war.

Since the quarters were close, I introduced myself and she didn't look down her nose at me because I was in my official uniform even if I was an unimpressive Corporal with no ribbons or medals to speak of. Up close now, I could see she wasn't as old as I first thought because she still had that blush of youth in her eyes that spoke of happier days. I opened the window for her so she could get more fresh air.

"Thank you, Corporal Marlborough; I felt a little faint because I missed lunch to catch this train. I am heading for a post out in Indian Territory on the other side of Kansas City."

When she mentioned the name of the post, I was surprised because that was my destination as well. It was a strange coincidence but maybe it was just fate. I gave her some of my rations which included an assortment of fruit fresh picked from the farm. I watched her wrap her lips around a juicy peach and saw her tiny little tongue come out like a happy explorer to lick and suck up the juices with expert skill. It fair made my cock twitch something fierce just thinking about how that would feel with her head between my legs and I think she read my mind because she started to blush and tried to hide her pretty mouth from my intent gaze.

We made steady time all that afternoon and into the night.

The next morning, we stretched our legs by walking back into the caboose that was empty because it was jumping around on the track fairly shaky due to some problem with the wheels. Sometimes folks would come out to the end hand rail and spit their chewing tobacco or discard trash but not at the moment. She bent over the side railing to look out to the flat open lands flashing by and I took advantage of the situation to push up her long ankle length skirt and rest my impetuous cock right on her bloomers like I was her boyfriend or her fiancée. It was a relief that she was not in the least bit put out by my forward actions and even ventured to lower her bloomers for me to place it right into her cleft smack dab on her pretty little brown eye. I was way over the line with gentlemanly conduct but I pressed on and managed to gain a foothold inside her tight little hole. The jouncing of the caboose was enough to make me the proud possessor of her womanly entrance as my cock slid down to enter the more welcoming entryway.

A pair of lovebirds came on the end platform and ignored us because with me covering her naked flanks, nothing untoward was visible for any comment. We just stood there and let the bouncing train do our business for us and soon we both were spilling our climaxes like marital partners in a familiar setting. I stayed inside my lovely partner until the other couple departed and then slid my shrinking shaft out allowing my seeds to spill out onto the platform deck. The widow Mason laughed at the sight and erased them with her shoe. We went back to our seats and played stinky finger in the darkened compartment out of sight of the other passengers. All in all, it made for a pleasant journey and the time flew by as we humped our way west.

I remember asking her in a sleepy voice shortly before we arrived at the post who she was joining at that rugged outpost.

"Why, Mister Marlborough, I am traveling to live with my father, Colonel Merriweather, who is the commandant of Fort Apache."

This revelation made me unusually nervous because I knew an officer of that rank would have the power of life and death over me and I had already had carnal relations with his widowed daughter in public using her in a most degrading manner. I knew she was fairly receptive of my efforts but such an act could cost me the rest of my life in a federal prison.

The look Mrs. Mason gave me showed that she was full aware of my plight and intended to use it as a lever in my future conduct whenever she was a mind to do so. When we arrived at the station, there was a wagon with four horses waiting for her and her luggage and they told me to hop on the back and keep my mouth shut if I wanted a ride out to the Fort which was about a distance of some five miles.

I was put into a unit that was in support of the Indian scouts and was a bit fearful of being bunked down with a bunch of savages who had a reputation of lifting scalps when they got in a bad mood. With the language problem, we didn't talk very much and just stayed out of each other's way as much as possible. The sergeant in charge was a booze hound called Mike and he let the civilian scouts run things because they at least could talk to the Indians in their own language.

We were all out on the parade ground one morning listening to the Colonel lecture us on treating the Indians with proper respect and I could see the civilian scouts laughing behind their hands at his naïve attitude. My troop sergeant assigned me to the guard duty on the main gate for the remainder of the afternoon and I resigned myself to baking under the harsh sun for the next few hours with only a small patch of shade to rest. I was squinting off in the distance at some riders moving slowly across my line of vision when I became aware of the scent of a female next to me and discovered Mrs. Mason right at my elbow with a good view right down her dress onto the tops of her handsome bosom. I came to attention and looked nervously over my shoulder to see if anyone was looking but the rectangle was deserted on that hot afternoon.

"Well, corporal, it appears I have been awfully lonely out here because all these men are so afraid of my father. Are you afraid of my father, dear corporal Marlborough? You should be afraid of my telling him about how forcefully you possessed my private parts right out in public on the train. I will be at the chapel this evening right after dinner to say my prayers in private. If you were to wander in for some spiritual guidance, I might be tempted to bend over for you once again. If we are caught, I will have to say you forced me, so it is important that you waste no time in finishing your mission.

As soon as the sun started to set, I strode off to the chapel which was at the rear end of the fort next to the back-up well that we saved for emergencies like an Indian uprising making it hard to go down to the running water nearby that was our primary source of water. Most of the off-duty troopers were huddled up in the sutler's quarters and trading shack soaking up some of the imitation booze they were making for the Indians in the territory. It was pure "rotgut" and that was the truth of it. I didn't touch a drop of it because my digestive system was a bit shaky since moving west. That sutler was a real cheap bastard who never passed up a chance to make a profit. His name was Hidalgo and he spoke English, Mexican and a bit of Apache. He had been after me to sell him my watch which was a gift from my mother and I had no intention of parting with it. I knew he had a couple of Indian females in his back room that he rented out to the troopers when their desperation for finding a female hole to poke got too strong to ignore. I kind of felt sorry for them because they were youngish and nice looking and deserved something better in life than earning their room and board on their back. Anyway, it was none of my business and I hurried on to meet up with the widow Mason.

The little chapel was deserted except for my female admirer kneeling and praying for the redemption of her sinning ways. I pulled her hastily into a side alcove out of sight of the front door and quickly got her into prime position for a "from the rear" pounding that would help make me shoot my load real quick. She didn't say a word and I could tell she needed it just as badly as I did so I shoved in without fanfare and she took it all like a brave woman considering my size.

"Ahh, Corporal Marlborough, not quite that fast. I know I said "quickly" but please allow me some moments to savor your stretching. Kindly use your palms on my hips to punish me for my terrible unladylike misdeeds. Let me hear the sounds of your hands on my sinful flesh. Good boy! Do it just like that!"

The spanking did the trick for me and I was soon shooting my spunk inside her hole and outside her entrance getting her bloomers all sticky and wet with neither of us giving a care.

When she quietly slid back to her father's quarters, I left the chapel totally unaware that the evil-minded Hidalgo was watching me from the shadows with a nasty grin on his face.

All I could think of was the fact that Mrs. Mason had arranged for us to meet in the chapel every evening after dinner and I knew the other troopers would start to think I was some sort of weird religious-minded person better suited to a parsonage than a barracks.

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