Fat Joe and Kathleen
Copyright© 2025 by Ayra Atkinson
Chapter 7
Western Sex Story: Chapter 7 - In the dusty frontier town of Dreadworth, fifteen-year-old orphan Joe survives by shining shoes and carrying bags for strangers. His life changes when he encounters Mrs. Kathleen “The Sapphire Siren” McGowan, a mysterious newcomer with a past as colorful as her ambitions. Kathleen arrives with a plan to take the stage at the notorious Courage Saloon and make herself unforgettable. Drawn into her world of cabaret lights, whispered deals, and unspoken dangers, Joe becomes her trusted helper and..
Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Fiction Crime Rags To Riches Western Wife Watching Polygamy/Polyamory Anal Sex Safe Sex Sex Toys
The ride to Flossie’s house was filled with a mix of excitement and tension. Mrs. Kathleen’s warmth and the steady rhythm of the horse’s gait beneath them seemed to melt away the tension of the day. The town of Dreadworth grew smaller and smaller in the distance as they rode, the horizon stretching out before them like a canvas yearning to be painted with the colors of their vengeance.
Joe felt the wind whipping against his face, the fabric of his new clothes fluttering around him like a second skin. He had never felt so alive, so ... free. Mrs. Kathleen’s arms around his waist were a constant reminder of the bond they shared, the promise of a future where the town’s outlaws would tremble at the mention of their names.
The sun was a fiery orb in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty trail as they approached Flossie’s ranch. The sight of the simple semi big wooden house with its patchwork quilt of a garden was a stark contrast to the garish neon lights of Dreadworth. The air was cleaner here, filled with the scent of sagebrush and the distant call of a coyote. It was a place where Joe felt like he could breathe again.
As they drew closer, Flossie emerged from the house, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of them. Her face split into a grin, revealing a row of tobacco-stained teeth. “Well, I’ll be,” she said, her voice carrying across the yard. “The Sapphire Siren and her trusty steed!”
Mrs. Kathleen slid off Flashblack with the grace of a seasoned rider, the fabric of her dress whispering against her legs. She strode towards Flossie, her hand outstretched. “Flossie,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “I’m ready for everything.”
Flossie took Mrs. Kathleen’s hand and pulled her into a tight embrace. “You look like a goddess,” she murmured, her eyes shining with admiration. Then, she turned to Joe, her gaze lingering on his new attire. “And you,” she said, her voice gruff with affection, “you clean up well.”
Without warning, Flossie leaned in and pressed a kiss to Mrs. Kathleen’s cheek, the warmth of it surprisingly comforting amidst the tension of their mission. Mrs. Kathleen’s eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, her breath hitching as she absorbed the gesture.
“Ronny’s made some progress,” Flossie said, her voice thick with emotion. “He can move his hand a little now.”
Kathleen’s eyes widened, and she pulled away from the embrace, her heart pounding in her chest. “What?” she breathed, her voice filled with hope.
Flossie nodded, her own eyes brimming with tears. “It’s true, Katy,” she said, using the affectionate nickname she had given her friend. “He’s been working at it every day, and just this morning, he managed to wiggle his fingers.”
Kathleen’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t allowed herself to hope for such a thing, fearing it would only lead to disappointment. But here it was, a miracle wrapped in the rough fabric of reality. “I will give him another treatment,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Flossie nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “He’s waiting for you.”
Kathleen’s heart swelled with a mix of hope and love as she followed Flossie into the house. The simple, homely interior was a stark contrast to the opulence of the Courage Saloon, but it was here that she had found refuge and friendship. The floorboards creaked under their feet as they made their way to the back room where Ronny lay, his eyes lighting up at the sight of them.
Joe hovered by the door, his new hat in his hand, unsure of his place in this intimate moment. Mrs. Kathleen’s hand on his shoulder was all the invitation he needed, and he stepped inside, feeling the weight of their shared purpose more heavily than ever.
Ronny’s eyes lit up as he saw them, a weak smile playing on his lips. “Katy,” he murmured, his voice raspy from disuse.
Kathleen rushed to his side, her heart racing. She took his hand in hers, feeling the warmth and life in his grip. “Ronny,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to be okay.”
Ronny’s eyes searched hers, and Joe could see the silent conversation that passed between them. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered love, and he felt like an intruder, witnessing something so sacred. “Thanks to you,” he rasped, his voice filled with gratitude.
The room was filled with an unspoken understanding, the tension of their mission momentarily forgotten in the face of this small victory. Ronny’s hand twitched, and Joe watched in amazement as his fingers began to move, first tentatively, then with more strength. It was as if the very air in the room had changed, charged with the power of hope and friendship.
Mrs. Kathleen leaned down, her hand still clutching Ronny’s. “We’re going to beat this, my love,” she whispered fiercely. “We’re going to get you back on your feet.”
Ronny’s smile grew, a spark of determination lighting his eyes. “With you by my side, I know we can,” he said, his voice stronger than it had been in weeks.
Flossie stepped back, giving them space, her own hand reaching for the gun at her side. The weight of it was a comfort, a reminder of the promise they had made to one another. The three of them, bound by friendship and a desire for justice, stood in the simple room, their hearts beating in unison with the rhythm of their shared vendetta.
“Katy,” Ronny’s voice grew serious, his eyes meeting hers with a steely resolve. “Before we do some fun, you need to get that gun training.” His words were a gentle command, a reminder of the path she had chosen.
Mrs. Kathleen nodded solemnly, her eyes never leaving Ronny’s. “I will,” she promised, her grip on his hand tightening. “I’ll make you proud and happy.”
With a heavy heart, she turned to Joe, her eyes shining with determination. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice a low whisper that seemed to carry the weight of the world. “We’ve got work to do.”
They stepped outside into the warm embrace of the morning sun, the smell of sage and gunpowder lingering in the air. Flossie led them to the backyard, where the beauty of the surrounding ranchlands stretched out before them like a canvas painted by the gods themselves. The rolling hills and distant mountains served as a stark contrast to the harsh reality of their lives in Dreadworth, a gentle reminder of the peace they were fighting for.
Flashblack, sensing the tension in the air, pranced eagerly as Joe approached, his eyes filled with a silent question. Joe swallowed hard, his heart racing as he climbed into the saddle. He had watched Mrs. Kathleen ride with such ease, her body moving in harmony with the stallion’s powerful strides. Now, it was his turn. He took a deep breath and whispered a prayer to whatever deity might be listening.
With a gentle nudge, he urged Flashblack forward, the stallion’s muscles rippling beneath him as they moved in unison. The wind whipped through his hair, the fabric of his new clothes flapping against his skin as they picked up speed. The world around him blurred, and for a brief, glorious moment, Joe felt like he could conquer anything.
The horse’s hooves pounded the dry earth, sending up clouds of dust that swirled around them like a tornado. The sensation was exhilarating, filling Joe with a sense of power and freedom he had never experienced before. He leaned forward, his eyes watering from the wind, and whispered into Flashblack’s ear, “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”
The stallion responded with a snort and a surge of speed, his muscles bunching and releasing with each stride. Joe felt every inch of him, the rhythm of his gait syncing with his own heartbeat. They flew across the backyard, the landscape blurring into a tableau of brown and green. The wind stung his cheeks and ruffled the collar of his new shirt, but he didn’t care. For the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged.
As they approached the herd of ranch horses, they looked up from their grazing, their eyes wide with curiosity. Then, as if on cue, they took off after them, their hooves thundering like a stampede. The sound was deafening, the earth vibrating beneath them as the twenty horses gave chase. Joe’s heart raced in his chest, a mix of fear and excitement.
Flossie watched with a knowing smile as Joe’s knuckles turned white on the reins. “You’ve got the hang of it,” she called out over the din, her voice carrying on the wind. “Just keep your heels down and your back straight. Flashblack’s a good boy, he’ll take care of you.”
Mrs. Kathleen nodded, her eyes never leaving Joe’s determined face. “He’s a natural,” she said, her voice filled with pride. “But Joe still has much to learn.”
Flossie grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We let them learning and get to know each other better?” she suggested, jerking her thumb in the direction of the horizon.
Mrs. Kathleen turned to Flossie, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. “Flossie,” she said, her eyes narrowing with determination, “it’s time for my next lesson. I need to learn to hit a moving target.”
Flossie’s smile grew wider, and she gave a sharp nod. “Good girl,” she said, her voice gruff with affection. “You’re eager to learn, and that’s half the battle.”
With a twirl of her gun, she pointed to a squirrel scurrying across a branch of a nearby mesquite tree. “See that critter?” she called out to Kathleen, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Watch her moves.”
Kathleen’s gaze followed the squirrel’s nimble dance from branch to branch. “What’s a squirrel got to do with gun training?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Flossie stepped closer, her eyes gleaming. “Everything,” she said, her voice low and serious. “That squirrel’s as fast as the bullets you’ll be dodging soon enough. Keep your eyes on it, Katy. Watch how it moves, how it thinks.”
Kathleen narrowed her eyes, her gaze locked on the squirrel as it darted from branch to branch. The creature’s movements were erratic, unpredictable, and yet, there was a pattern to its chaos. “I see it,” she murmured, her voice tight with concentration.
Suddenly, the crack of a gunshot rang out, echoing through the quiet morning. The squirrel’s body jerked, and it tumbled to the ground in a flurry of dust. Flossie’s pistol was still smoking, a look of satisfaction etched on her weathered face. “Fast, ain’t it?” she said, her voice a low rumble.
Mrs. Kathleen’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and awe. “But how did you do that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Flossie holstered her gun with a practiced ease, her eyes never leaving the squirrel’s lifeless form. “It’s all about reading the pattern, Katy,” she said, her voice filled with the wisdom of years spent on the frontier. “In life, and in a gunfight, you’ve got to anticipate your opponent’s moves before they make ‘em.”
They spent the next few hours in the hot, dusty sun, practicing their marksmanship. Flossie had set up an array of bottles and cans at varying distances, and she instructed Kathleen to shoot while throwing, her eyes flicking from target to target, her movements fluid and precise. The crack of the Colt echoed across the ranch, the smell of gunpowder mingling with the scent of sagebrush.
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