Frontier Justice (or My Western Harem)
Copyright© 2026 by Lubrican
Chapter 9
Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 9 - His widowed mother and her sister ran a dry goods store in 1870. His sister helped out and he did odd jobs to make a little cash. A group of cowboys tried to rape his aunt, and they killed the sheriff when he tried to arrest them. So Bobby put on the sheriff's badge and went after the miscreants. They should have surrendered peaceably. But they didn't.
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Fiction Western Incest Mother Son Sister Aunt First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Size Revenge
Things were both exciting and boring the rest of that day. They had a wanted poster for a man named Terry Durbin, who was wanted for murder and rustling. There was a reward of five thousand dollars noted on the poster. They showed me the poster and it surely did look like Calhoun. In the end, they figured he and his men drove the herd to the Wyoming territory, since it was so sparsely populated. He had four years, during the war, to get set up as a legitimate rancher. A tiger can’t change its stripes and he’d been sending his men to steal other people’s cattle ever since, though only five or six head at a time, so there was no big trail to follow. The first marshal, who we thought just left and didn’t care? When he talked to Calhoun, he remembered a wanted poster he’d seen in Laramie, but he had to go back there to make sure. When he said he was sure he’d talked to Durbin, now known as Calhoun, they made plans to come raid the ranch, getting there just a few hours too late. None of Durbin’s gang had been described, so even if they were still working on the ranch, nobody could tell.
The marshal in charge, named Dennis Wilshire, sat down with us at the saloon for supper and gave me the breakdown. They had carried me down the stairs so I could hobble to the hotel.
“There’s only one thing that still needs to be worked out,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Well, you killed Durbin, so the reward should be yours. But a sheriff can’t claim any reward, since it’s his sworn duty to deal with men like Durbin. How did you become the sheriff?”
“I just picked up the badge from the dirt where Baldwin was shot and put it on. Later the mayor had me say some words and said I was the new sheriff, fair and square.”
“But you weren’t elected?”
“Elected? I reckon not,” I said. “Nobody in this town is ever elected.”
“Not even the mayor?”
“Nobody else wanted the job,” said Mama.
“Well, then, that satisfies things. You can’t become the sheriff without being duly elected, which means you weren’t technically a lawman when you went after those men.”
“So I did murder them,” I sighed.
“It’s not against the law to protect yourself, and when a man draws down on you, assuming he’s not a lawman, himself, that’s just self-defense. When they drew their guns that gave you the right to defend yourself.”
I noticed he didn’t include Steve in his analysis. Steve hadn’t drawn on me. He hadn’t even known what was happening when Three Feathers made him dead. I didn’t want to push my luck so I just stayed quiet.
“When we get back, I’ll certify that Durbin is no longer a fugitive and that you should get the reward for that. Then we’ll let the lawyers figure out if anybody else has a claim on his cattle. Since the original herd that was stolen is long gone, Ranchers could claim any cows with their brands on them, but they’d have to come here to find them and drive them back to the Colorado Territory, more than likely. Might be some from Nebraska, but it’s hard to tell. I don’t know if they would break even coming here to recover what might turn out to only be ten or fifteen head.”
“So, for now, does his daughter inherit the ranch?” I asked.
“Until somebody brings a suit in court, it’s all hers.”
“I’ve only seen her once, but she’s just a slip of a girl. She can’t run that ranch by herself,” I said.
“Then she should probably sell it before anybody brings that suit. There are many unscrupulous men out there who will use the law to steal from people. It’s sad, but they can convince a judge they have the right to something and take it away from whoever has it at the moment.”
There were eight marshals in the posse that had come to take down Terry Durbin, a known murderer and cattle rustler. They didn’t want to ride back to Laramie in the dark, so for the first time since it was built, or at least anybody could remember, the hotel rooms had official paying guests in them. That meant the upstairs girls got a night off, as they had to vacate the rooms they used as whores, and all sleep together in one room.
Several men in town were happy to see the marshals go the next day, so they could, once again, rent a woman for sex.
They had gotten me back upstairs. I could walk a little if I was standing up, but climbing stairs was beyond me. I could sit on my ass and go down a step at a time, but I didn’t have the strength to go back up the same way. Still, I managed to stand up out of bed a few times. The wound didn’t fester, so it would just take some time for the muscle and whatever in my leg to heal up. Then I’d be fine.
It was three days before one of my women decided I’d endured enough pain that I deserved some pleasure. It was Chastity, with Aunt Mattie there to teach her how to suck my cock. When I went off, Chastity let it fill her mouth and she looked like a chipmunk for a minute, as she tried to decide what to do. Then Aunt Mattie said to swallow it, and she did and then she grinned and said she liked my taste just fine, and now she knew why her pussy felt so fantastic when I squirted in there.
When I could stand and limp the whole length of the room, they were at the point where all of them wanted some attention to their pussies. Mama rode me first while the other two watched.
“Don’t you climax until we’ve all had a turn,” she said, sinking down on my prod. “Ohhhh, how I’ve missed this.”
She commenced to jerk and wiggle and I pinched her fat nipples and almost no time she was having a climax of her own.
“Not yet,” she moaned.
“Did he squirt?” Chastity’s voice sounded dangerous.
“No,” Mama panted. “I just wasn’t ready for it to be finished so fast.”
“He didn’t die, Mama,” said my sister. “He’s stuck in bed. You can have him as much as you want to.”
“All right,” sighed my mother as she levered herself up off of me. I’m always just astonished when they do that; when they get off with it still hard, and it keeps coming out of them for what looks like a too-long thing that was up in them. It looks like it should kill them, or interfere with breathing or some such. But Chastity was up and over me in an instant and when she reached for my prick and notched it, she dropped like a stone. She groaned, but sat straight up.
“Fuuuuck. I love it when you stretch me so much.”
‘You are not to use such language!” snapped our mother, who had dropped her dress over her head and was straightening it out on her body.
“I’m sorry,” moaned Chastity. “It just feels soooo goood.”
“I’m aware of that,” said Mama. “That doesn’t mean you can use coarse language.”
“Yes, Mama,” said my sister and then she did the same thing Mama had, except she leaned forward to pull me almost out of her and then slam back towards my feet. Her titties were bouncing around right in front of me and I made a game of trying to capture a nipple to suck it. I didn’t get one until she climaxed, at which point she froze on the outside and went crazy on the inside. I almost spurted, but managed not to.
Chastity rolled off of me and Aunt Mattie was ready. All she had done was raise her skirt, but when she settled down on the cock that had made her fat, I lifted the dress to get to the bulge. As I ran my hands all around it and I slid a hand up to get to her breast, she pulled her dress up and off. She shook her hair, which was down, as the day was over. It was so long it went to her ass. Mama’s was only a little shorter.
Then I commenced to rub her belly and titties and tell whatever was inside her all about how its mother had dazzled me and made it so I couldn’t think about anything except making a baby in her.
“And, sure enough, you came along. I can’t wait to see you. I’m so glad you’re in there.”
“Are you?” said the woman riding me. “Are you glad you did this to me? Are you happy that I have to pee every fifteen minutes and that this baby kicks like a mule inside me?”
About that time something moved across her bulge, making the skin press outwards. I put my hand there and it moved under my hand. I had been gone quite a while, and this baby had gotten not only bigger, but all active, too. I was astonished. I looked up at her. She actually looked worried that I might change my mind.
“I want to do this to you again,” I said. “Maybe twice.”
She cried, then and had a climax while she did it. I let loose in her and said, “I’ll do this enough times that your belly will swell up three times.”
“Do not torture your aunt, you scoundrel,” said Mama.
“Not ... torture!” gasped Mattie.
“Well, then, don’t let him turn your head. One is more than enough for you. What do you think folks would surmise if you got a second baby with no husband?”
“I don’t know,” moaned my aunt.
I turned my head and looked at Mama.
“I’m going to do it to you three times, too,” I said. “Whatever people think about Aunt Mattie, they’ll think about you, too, but I don’t care. I have to get my baby in you some day.”
Chastity jumped into view.
“Does that mean I get to have four?”
While I was laid up there were more fireworks. A contingent of women, including my mother, borrowed the buggy Fred had at the livery and drove all the way to the ranch. They found Calhoun’s daughter living there, but it wasn’t really living. The hands had deserted her, afraid that the marshals would come arrest them. She was out of most things and had no way to get more. When the men had found their horses, they didn’t bring one back for her, and none of the stock would come close because of the stench of the ashes. One of the ranch dogs was there, and it had barked at them so much the horse pulling the buggy got restive. It had hunted for itself, but hadn’t brought anything home for Cindy Mae. She was mostly loco, but it wasn’t because she was alone and hungry and helpless.
It was because she was alone and hungry and helpless and thought she was pregnant.
I’m sure if she hadn’t been so close to the end of her rope that Cindy Mae Calhoun would never have given up her secret, even on pain of death. Well, as it turned out, her father actually had sworn her to this secret on pain of death, because it was Noah Calhoun who was doing to his daughter what it is that makes women pregnant. He’d been doing it regular, ever since her mother died, four years earlier. Cindy Mae had been thirteen for an entire day before her father made her take the place of his dead wife in his bed. She didn’t want to be there or do that, but he didn’t care. He made her do it until she stopped resisting.
Now, I know I have no stump to stand on and yell that incest is bad. That would be the pot calling the kettle black, as Don Quixote would have said it. My mother had that book and I had read it. Anyway, there is a difference between Noah Calhoun’s kind of incest, and mine. In my case, all my women loved me and loved making love with me. In their case, Noah Calhoun forced himself on a terrified girl, who was grieving for the loss of her mother. He knew what herbs his wife had used to avoid becoming pregnant, and he made Cindy Mae use them, too. She said the first time he forced himself in her she bled and was in pain for three days. After the first few times, if she suspected he was going to bed her, she rubbed herself to make her pussy slick, so it didn’t hurt so much. Cindy Mae was never consulted as to whether she wanted to be this man’s sperm depository and she hated every second of it when he was using her that way. She feigned illness or the visit of her menses in some cases, to avoid having to lie under him and endure it as he rutted in her.
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