Miss Kitty's Cantina
Copyright© 2026 by A Bad Attitude
Chapter 1
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A 'Dime Novelist'in the early 1900's walks into a Cantina looking for stories.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Western
Edward Wheeler---I walked out of that meeting with ‘Brushy Bill’ totally disgusted with what I had heard. He told so many lies! Nobody would ever believe that man. I crossed the street and stood in front of a wooden building with the name MISS KITTY’S CANTINA written in block letters across the front. When I first came to Del Rio, I had avoided that place like the plague. It looked like a place where the clientele would kick the ass of an Easterner just for fun. But times have changed, I hoped so anyway as I pushed through the swinging doors.
It is two in the afternoon and the only other person in the place beside me was an old cowboy sitting alone at a table nursing a beer. As I walked up to the bar, the man wiping it down looked up and grinned as he asked, “What can I get you?”
He sounded friendly enough, so I ordered a beer. I watched as he opened a tap on a wooden barrel and filled a mug. He sat it in front of me and asked, “Anything else?”
I took a sip of the warm beer, sat the mug back on the bar and commented, “Miss Kitty’s? Was there ever a real Miss Kitty?”
“Of course there was. That’s her.”
He pointed to a large photo hanging behind the bar. In it was a tall red-haired woman standing with her arm around a blonde girl dressed in raw- hide.
Becky!
I almost fainted!
Sitting on stools around them were three other women, all dressed in nice clothes for the time. They all looked older than Becky.
I pointed to the photo and asked, “Do you know the story behind that photo or any history of this place?”
“Not really. You should ask that old timer sitting over there.”
He pointed to the only other person in the bar. This man looked to be about my age, and he had been listening to our conversation.
“Bring me another beer and have a seat. I’d be happy to talk to you,” the old man shouted.
I nodded to the bartender, and he drew another mug of beer. I walked over to the table with it as this man used his booted foot to move out a chair. I sat and he began to talk.
“I was a Deputy Sheriff back in those days. I knew Miss Kitty’s real well.” He took a sip of the fresh beer, wiped the foam off his lips with his sleeve and grinned.
“Did you know the blonde woman dressed in those rawhide clothes?”
“Of course I did. A man never forgets his ‘first’.”
“What do you mean, ‘first’?”
“Like my first beer, Miss Kitty herself drew it for me. Said that since it was my first, it was on the house. But fucking that blonde whore standing next to her cost me $5! Almost a week’s pay back then! She was my first piece of pussy, and she was worth every cent of those five dollars. That girl had been captured by the Comanches and held as a slave for five years. I don’t know what they did to her to make her such a wildcat in bed! But she was something else.” (Read ‘Becky and the Outlaw’ for that story)
He took another sip of beer before he continued.
“Later on, I tried those other three in the photo. They were nowhere close to the whore that Becky was. She gave a man his money’s worth, I tell you!”
He closed his eyes, shook his head then took another sip of beer before he started again.
“Miss Kitty only got three dollars for those whores but after fucking that blonde, fucking one of them was like sticking your dick in a mud hole. Becky was the best whore I ever fucked!”
I guess he saw that I was not smiling.
“You ain’t kin are you? If you are, I’m sorry for...”
“No, I am not kin to her. I know who she was because I was in the restaurant the morning Early Johnson killed two men in a gunfight. She threw a tomahawk and killed a Mexican.”
“I was out of town when that happened. I’m Chester Mullins.”
He stuck a weathered hand across the table and I shook it. his handshake was firm, but his grip was as weak as mine.
“Edward Wheeler.”
“Well Mister Wheeler, besides hearing that Becky was the best whore in all of Texas, what else would you like to know?”
“What was Miss Kitty’s story? I noticed you said you ... err ... fucked Becky and the other three in the photo but you did not say if you ever fucked Miss Kitty.”
“No sir, I never did fuck Miss Kitty. If anyone ever tells you they did, you can call them a liar to their face. Miss Kitty was the Sheriff’s pussy, and she kept it strictly for the Sheriff. He let her run whores when everyone knew it was against the law. Miss Kitty’s was the only place for a hundred miles where you could get a drink and a poke without worrying about getting robbed or killed!”
“Ciudad Acuña?”
“Oh hell no! Those Mexicans would kill you for your boots!”
“So how did you become a Deputy?”
“When I was sixteen, I hired on with the Bar 00 ranch outside of town. I hurt my leg when a bronc rolled over me. My knee was crushed and when it healed, my leg was stiff. The doctor said it would never bend again. I wasn’t much help on a ranch with a stiff leg so I came to town looking for work. I had just turned 18 so Sheriff Arness deputized me to work around the jail. I made sure the prisoners were fed and taken to the outhouse. I also did anything the Sheriff needed help doing. I made the final patrol around town every night before returning to my room at the jail. That’s how I discovered what I am about to tell you. But before I do, I’ll need another beer.”