"Tomorrow, my sweet Carmen, tomorrow we shall shave your legs, under your arms and your pussy. But, tonight, I shall make a woman of you." I promised.
At that, I turned and faced her, Carmen launched her naked body from a standing position, from three feet in front of me, landing in my arms with her legs spread around me, her hands around my neck and her pussy impaling on my steel hard, mushroom headed rod. As her hymen tore, she shrieked in pain, but then drew herself, with the heels of her feet into the small of my back, all the way onto me. I stood there, my hands supporting her ass, as she gasped, allowing the sensation of pain to ease, holding on to her and not moving, allowing her to control the depth of my penetration.
Her 30 year old virgin pussy was soaking wet. It was soaking wet and hot. Her mixed fluids of vaginal lubrication and blood entombed my pulsing cock, her inner muscles flexed, undulated, kegeling unconsciously. I ejaculated into her with only one short thrust. She felt my squirting, realized what it was and began to pant, to moan, and as I thrust slightly, a second time, and on my last rope of cum, she orgasmed.
This 30 year old woman, a virgin, is Carmen Sanchez. Carmen had lived all her life in the remote wilderness in Northwest Mexico, known as the Sonoran desert. Carmen had been a member of a small tribe of Mexican people that struck out on their own under the repressive governments of 1920 Mexican Autocracies. Her grandfather, uncles and aunts, father, all her brothers and sisters, had died or been killed while warring with the Sonoran or Mexican federal authorities, or by ranchers while stealing their livestock. Carmen and her mother were alone hunkered down in a tiny wilderness watering hole, an eternal spring of water, the source of life on the desert. They ate whatever they could; rattlesnake, mice, and birds that they were able to snare, coming into the oasis for water.
I am Bill Travis, a Colorado rancher and farmer. I was in Northern Mexico, that February, on a cattle buying trip. Mexican calves are cheaper and hardier creatures and seem to survive our harsh Colorado conditions better, and with less cancers and health issues, than the hormone injected crop of cattle that we are raising here in the United States, in Louisiana, Missouri and Texas, from where I usually buy my calves. I'd heard that there were some big ranches in Northwest Sonora, Rancho El Saucito, Rancho El Tordillo, and Rancho El Quernado with tens of thousands of momma cows and baby calves on the range out in the desert and they were dirt cheap. I needed to buy about 27,000 head of calves for the feedlots I ran, as well as a few hundred momma cows-to-be, among the better heifers I could find for my cow-calf ranch operation. Due to great winter snows and heavy spring rains, grass would be plentiful this year and I wanted to graze it up and sell it as beef rather than let it dry up and lose the income. The free trade agreement between Mexico and the United States allowed the import of beef on the hoof with proper veterinarian certification.
I rented a helicopter and a pilot in Tucson and met the owners of the three ranches in Moctezuma, right on Mexican Highway 17. One at a time over a period of a week, we took one of the ranchers up and flew over his property identifying about how many head he had to sell, their size and quality. Once back in Moctezuma, we'd agree on a price per head, and how many head we wanted (could get) from him. It was up to him to truck them to me in Colorado, so we also had to figure in his transportation costs. Mexican calves were a lot cheaper. Overall, this would cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars, but save me additional hundreds of thousands, and, at market, would net me millions, if I had it figured correctly (and I did).
On the last day out we were flying over Rancho Quernado with the owner, Senor Delmar Quernado. I thought I saw a couple of people near a spring, though they were trying to hide near some rocks.
The rancher, Senor Quernado, told me that they were just the remnants of a Gypsie tribe of bandaleros who had spent several generations stealing their cattle and living off their land.
He said, "Nobody has seen any of them for over 14 years," and was surprised that they were still here. He indicated that if we'd land he'd shoot them and be done with the thieves. He had no love for them, at all.
"Nobody is going to die today, senor" I told Senor Quernado. "Put your pistol away, we will land and see about their welfare. I only see two women, where are the men?"
There were no men, the two women had never seen a helicopter and were duly frightened, thinking it was a god from the sky. They'd seen jets flying over at 37,000 feet, but nothing like this.
"A god coming from the sky to take us away" is what they'd thought, Carmen later told me, when they'd seen the helicopter circle and land.
One of the two women was an old and somewhat infirm woman of about 70. The other was a young and stunning woman of 28. They spoke very little Spanish, having learned to communicate in their own invented language, but they did speak enough Spanish to communicate with Senor Quernado a little.
"My mother is sick." The younger woman said. "Can you help her?"
When I understood, I acknowledged that we could and would and asked her to help us get the elder woman into our machine and we'd transport her to the nearest hospital, in Naco Zari de Garcia, a town of 8,000 about 100 miles to the north of where we were.
The helicopter was crowded and very nearly overweight. That we had used up over half our fuel already allowed us to take on the extra passenger's weight. We made it to Naco Zari de Garcia on fumes, but we made it. Carmen and her mother, Maria, were taken to the local hospital, where her mother promptly died. She didn't make it to nightfall. I wondered if it was natural causes or sinister interference. I never found out for sure.
Senor Quernado was anxious to get back to Moctezuma, so he could take his prize, the lovely Carmen back to his ranch and enslave her, rape her and maybe even sell her.
Let me tell you about Carmen; she is an exotic Mexican beauty. At the time, she was 28 years old; the best we could figure from stories her parents had told her about the time she was born. Her dad died when she was about 14 or 15, killed probably by Senor Quernado or one of his men. He was the last man of the group, and he left her mom and her to fend for themselves in the desolate land of Sonora. She is 5'5", 100 pounds, very long black hair and has the most stunning olive green eyes, and caramel colored skin. Her breasts are 32 inch 'b' cup and her waist a tiny 25 inches. Her ass rounded to a comely 32 inches. She had lived a very disparate life, existing on the scarce bounty of the desert, and her body was lean, hard and she was very strong, physically for her size. So, she was tall, lithe, and elegant but with no formal training. She'd had no contact with another human, other than her mother for 13 years, and, Carmen had never, ever been with a man.
The rancher assumed she was his and began his domination of Carmen as we left the hospital, after her mother had passed away. Carmen was crying, wanting to be with her mother, protesting and fighting. I have since wondered that if I'd left her to fend for herself, she very well could have kicked his ass and escaped back out to the desert. But, at the time, I had no idea of such things and interfered, soothing her with a calm voice and holding Delmar Quernado at bay. She hid behind me, this tall gringo with blue eyes, sandy hair and nice features, and I became her protector. Eventually I'd become her friend, then her husband, then her lover.
Once back at Moctezuma, we agreed on the number of calves that Senor Quernado would deliver to me in Colorado, the transportation costs that I'd reimburse him for and the amount of money I'd pay him for his livestock. We established a final figure. It was in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.
"One more thing, Senor," I said. "The girl leaves with me or no deal."
"That is crazy, Senor," Quernado shouted, "She is not an American citizen, she has no papers, she speaks no English, she was found on my ranch and is my property. You will leave her here, she is my family."
"Very well Senor Quernado, it was nice to have met you. I think I have decided that I will trim my herd and not take your 8,500 head of cattle after all." I calmly intoned. "Just deliver to me 4,500 head; instead, same price per head and the transportation costs also the same per head."
Carmen was watching us, without being able to understand our words, but understanding that she was the topic and that her future was being negotiated. Her olive green eyes were fearful and frightened and grew large as saucers.
I rose to leave the hotel lobby, I bid Carmen farewell with a tip of my hat and a touch of my hand to her wrist. I walked out the door of the hotel to the helicopter pilot and the pickup we were using.
We'd driven to the edge of town, where the helicopter was waiting our liftoff for Tucson. As the blades were beginning to whirl, and the noise of the engine wrapping up, an old pickup came screeching up in a cloud of dust. Senor Quernado exited the pickup and slammed the door with great force, cursing and taking giant steps towards our almost-to-lift-off whirlybird.
"Espera, Esperame" he cried over the noise. "Tu puede tiene la mujer" ("Wait, wait for me" "You can have the woman.")
"Pero, yo quiero diez mil mas dolares" he bargained. ("But I want ten thousand more dollars").
"Senor, ella no es suyo vender." I replied. "Ella es una persona libre." ("She is not yours to sell, she is a free person")
.... There is more of this story ...