6:09 to Sweetwater
Copyright© 2024 by mirafrida
Chapter 5
Western Sex Story: Chapter 5 - When Hetty headed out west to join her husband, she could imagine many dangers. But somehow she'd never believed bandits might waylay her stagecoach. When they do, she's forced to make some impossible decisions. And the choices she makes will change her life forever.
Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Blackmail Coercion NonConsensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Crime Historical Western Cheating Cuckold MaleDom Rough Gang Bang Interracial Black Male White Male White Female Cream Pie Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Public Sex Size ENF Slow
A wolfish growl in Tomo’s throat told that even his deep wellsprings of patience had at last run dry. Taking advantage of the female’s giddy abandon and indecent spread, the warrior repositioned himself between her luscious thighs—poised give his cock free rein of her this time, while leaving her to count the costs.
In her distraction, Hetty hardly registered his movements. That is, until the moment when he situated that stiff, swollen, burnt-umber shaft against her entrance ... and drove it like a Lakota lance, straight up her welcoming canal. Then she flinched, all right, lids flickering open—startled to feel his hardness skewering into her so abruptly, and shaken by the cold and commanding air with which he did it.
Flustered, wobbly, all she could do was peer up into the Indian’s deep, brown eyes, as he held himself above her. Seconds ticked by while their gazes remained locked, mere inches away—his features fathomless and unpitying, hers moist, dazed, rueful. The girl’s mind was filled with the stinging awareness of being joined in coitus with the man; her will overmastered by the raw corporeality of the bond. She tried to look away, tried to break their unspoken connection, but was utterly unable. And the failure cast a shadow of self-doubt over her features, making her lip tremble in weakness and frustration.
Catching the expression, George comprehended her emotions near enough. Marital intercourse may have taken the gal’s maidenhead, but it’d clearly done little to pierce her virginal frame of mind. Up to this very morning, she’d continued to engage the world through a veil of chastity. Now, in the span of less than an hour, all that had changed. The feminine modesty she prided herself on lay in tatters—smeared, shredded, annihilated—and her self-regard right along with it.
She’d let the unnatural acts of a savage carry her off into voluptuous bliss—a kind of bliss that her sheltered mind had never even conceived. Worse still, she’d allowed the genitals of that savage to violate her. Heavens, the man’s organ was lodged in her, at this very moment. This man who was not her husband, this man who knew her in dissipated ways that her husband never would. Under the weight of that reckoning, the innocence and fidelity Hetty kept wrapped about herself like a righteous cloak were stripped away, leaving her spirit to wander naked and adrift.
Without breaking eye-contact, Tomo began grinding his pelvis against hers. And as he mashed their bodies together, driving his penis in just that much further, probing her with a hungry cadence, she sensed, more than felt, how deeply he had reached inside her. Moreover, splayed open and aroused as she was, her sex remained unfurled, leaving her most sensitive regions exposed and helpless against the relentless, throbbing pressure of his groin. The chafe of it was delectable, and it stirred up that pool of eros that lay bubbling just beneath her skin, churning it toward the surface again.
She couldn’t fight these impulses, they were too seductive, too powerful. The rhapsody of orgasm lay far too fresh in her mind. And when finally she relinquished herself to what was happening—yielding her personal sovereignty to the exigency of the moment, and the ferocity of the man’s desire, and her own capacity for depravity—she was free at last to close her eyes, and find shelter from Tomo’s piercing stare. She couldn’t understand why her body was responding this way, why it seemed to revel in being used, in being raped. But it did. Like a demonic presence, the feelings simply possessed her. He possessed her.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why are you so ... sooo ... ohh... hngh ... hnngh ... ahhhh ... ahhhhh... ”
That rising, cat-in-heat lilt of hers would have caused any lesser man to lose it, but Tomosevesehe’s self-possession was remarkable. Even so, the native was plainly thrilled to receive the auditory proof that he hadn’t just taken the white woman’s honor, he’d laid claim to her soul. And it was true. Caught up in the throes of her mounting excitement, Hetty had fallen so low as to actually want the renegade to penetrate her, want him to desecrate her, want him to breed her. Her hips were rocking in a sensual counterpoint to his tempo ... pleasuring her clit shamelessly against the Indian’s coarse pubic hair, willing him to rail her out, daring him to plumb her as deeply as he possibly could.
She was stroked up to such a ferment, in fact, that as soon as Tomo finally did start thrusting in earnest, she came almost immediately. Slowly, he pulled his cock from her sheath, and then rammed it home again. “Mmmghhh... ” she grunted with pleasure. Again he pounded her, and this time ripples of galvanic energy ran up and down her spine. “Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh... ” A third time he impaled her, and that was it: she was pushed past the point of no return.
This release was deeper than the first, more profound—magnified by both the spiritual and material hazards of their union. As that exquisite initial rush of it carried her away in its velvet gauntlet, Hetty’s head lolled back. Her body bucked and quavered. And then: “ahhh ahhhnhh ahhhnhhnhhnhh YESSS!” Muscles tightening, breath ragged, “ohh-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes... ”
Shed of rationality, shed of scruples, she was distilled into the mere object of Tomosevesehe’s fucking—nothing more and nothing less. Drawing free and then slamming back into her, again and again, faster and faster, he drummed out an intense, proficient rhythm. Despite the fact that it was wet and slack, Hetty’s vagina had seen very little use in this life, and the outlaw couldn’t help but relish the way its youthful elasticity caressed his glans every time he entered her. A splendid improvement from your more run-of-the-mill whore.
Did the woman climax one time or many? She didn’t know and didn’t care. She no longer had the capacity for judgement, or logic, or lucidity—nor any use for these things either. Her world had become smaller, simpler, more perfect. Tantalizing, gaudy rainbows of passion shimmered marvelously in her mind’s eye, and frantically ... gleefully ... impetuously ... she chased after them. She lost herself, she was no one. She existed for no other reason than to drink up these precious, peerless sensations, and to be grateful for them.
Finally, when Tomo had drawn all the pleasure he could from Hetty’s body, he prepared to take possession of it—knowing the mark he left on her now would shadow her to the end of her days. Sucking nearly all the way out, he hesitated there for an instant, groin tensed, balls twitching with potent expectancy, mouth set in a rapacious leer. Then, with a roar of triumph, he speared her to the hilt, recklessly, exultantly, decisively, and released that first massive, glutinous gush of semen into her uterus.
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