Riders on the Storm
Copyright© 2016 by Dark Apostle
Chapter 3
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 3 - James William Smith has leapt into a body in 1855; this is my first attempt at a Western, utilizing elements from Cowboys & Aliens, For a Few Dollars More, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, Doctor Quinn Medicine Woman and Assassin's Creed. I have taken elements from each and smashed them into a story, with my own erotic twist thrown in. If you like my work, be sure to watch the films of all three and read the Cowboys & Aliens novel. This will be a part of a series I am playing with.
Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Coercion NonConsensual Reluctant Celebrity Fan Fiction Historical Science Fiction DoOver Extra Sensory Perception Time Travel Magic Violence
James left the saloon with his winnings, the weight of gold and paper heavy in his pockets, the metallic scent of blood still clinging to his skin. He strode back through the late afternoon glare to the doctor’s practice, boots loud on the porch. Without ceremony, he dumped the money—bills, coins, the spoils of violence—across the counter.
Michaela, standing by the wash basin, frowned, eyes narrowing on his hands, sticky and red, streaked up to the wrist. “James,” she said, voice taut, “that’s blood. Whose blood this time?”
He shrugged, rolling his broad shoulders, hands flexing. “Played poker with a group. One called himself Sebastian.”
She paled a shade, lips parting. “Oh Lord. Sebastian Quick Draw?” Her eyes swept him, searching for wounds.
He nodded, a wolfish smile curling on his lips. “That’s the one. They thought they could cheat me blind, tried to pull iron on me after I called them out. Didn’t end well—for them, at least.”
Michaela let out a slow breath, her tits rising under her blouse, soft cotton straining over pert nipples. “You outdrew Sebastian Quick Draw. Jesus, James.”
He stepped closer, the scent of whiskey, sweat, blood, and gunpowder radiating from him. “Didn’t have much choice. The whole table was in on it, figured they’d catch me off guard. I put three rounds in Sebastian’s chest before he even got his cock half out of his pants.” James grinned, bloody knuckles white on the counter.
She gave him a crooked smile, admiration and wariness flickering in her gaze. “Well, I hope none of their kin come sniffing after revenge.”
He snorted. “No, Sheriff already said the lot of them were no good, wouldn’t be missed. Besides, with these winnings we’ll be able to get supplies, horses—hell, maybe a decent bottle of wine for you.” His eyes drifted downward, lingering at the outline of her cunt through her skirt. “But there’s still one more thing I want.”
Michaela quirked an eyebrow, voice low. “What’s that?”
James leaned across the counter, catching her lips in a hard kiss. The taste of her was wild, herbal, sharp with desire. He pressed his palm against her breast, squeezing her tit, thumb grazing the nipple through cloth until she gasped. “You. Later,” he murmured, voice thick.
He washed up in the basin, scrubbing the blood away. Then he was gone, lips burning from the taste of her, cock hard beneath his trousers.
He strode across the street to the hotel, boot heels thudding, dust swirling around his legs. The doors banged open as he entered. The hotelier, perched precariously on his wooden box, startled, eyes going wide. A lone customer by the desk glanced up—James fixed him with an icy glare, hand idly drifting to the revolver at his hip.
“No trouble here, partner,” the customer mumbled, retreating, hands up.
James stalked up to the hotelier, voice cold as steel. “Where is she?”
The little man wrung his hands, face drawn, “For God’s sake, she’s my wife—”
James cut him off with a mocking smile. “Not anymore. She’s my woman now. Maybe you ought to find a wife more befitting your ... stature.” He glanced down at the man’s crotch, sneering.
The hotelier sagged, humiliation burning on his cheeks. “She’s upstairs,” he mumbled, voice defeated, “Take the slut. Take her and go.”
James dipped his hat in a mocking salute. “Much obliged.”
He took the stairs two at a time, heavy boots creaking on the wood. At her door, he rapped his knuckles—firm, proprietary. From inside, a familiar, sultry voice: “Enter.”
He slipped inside, closing the door behind him. She turned from the window, sunlight haloing her hair, and her face broke into a grin. “James—you’re alive! Oh, thank God.” She swept across the room, tits heaving beneath her thin chemise, and melted into his arms. Their kiss was rough, desperate; she clung to his neck, nails biting into his skin.
Pulling back, she searched his eyes. “But I heard—people said you were with that doctor, that auburn-haired bitch?”
James smirked, brushing a thumb across her lip. “I am. And with Mary, too.”
“Mary?” Jealousy flared in her gaze. “Who is Mary?”
He shrugged, cock swelling at the possessiveness in her tone. “A stray. Found her alone on the trail, needed a man to look after her. So I took her in.”
She laughed, low and bitter. “A knight in shining armor,” she mocked. “And what of your damsel, hmm? My knight still hasn’t rescued me.”
He scooped her up, strong arms lifting her clear off the floor, delighting in her squeal. He tossed her onto the bed, where she landed in a swirl of skirts and bare legs. Instantly, she parted her thighs, fingers sliding down to tease her cunt, the swollen lips glistening as she circled her clit. “You going to just watch, or fuck me proper?” she growled, pupils wide.
He wasted no time. His trousers dropped, cock springing free, thick and hard, veins throbbing with the need to claim her. He crawled up the bed, pressed the swollen head of his cock to her soaked entrance, and pushed inside. The heat of her cunt was a furnace—tight, wet, greedy for every inch.
She clawed at his back, moaning, “It’s been too fucking long, James. Fill me, stretch me out. I want to feel your cock all the way in my belly.” He obliged, hips snapping forward, the bed rattling against the wall with every thrust. Sweat dripped down his chest, smearing over her tits as he bent to suckle a nipple, biting down until she screamed his name.
He fucked her with abandon, hands gripping her hips, her cunt squeezing his cock, milking him. At the end, he emptied himself deep inside, thick ropes of cum pulsing into her. He stayed there a moment, buried in her cunt, savoring the shudder of her aftershocks.
Eventually, he pulled out, tucking himself away, buckling his belt. She lay sprawled, spent, hair wild, cunt dripping with his cum.
“Get dressed,” he commanded, voice rough. “We’re riding out tonight. I’m taking you with me.”
She propped herself on an elbow, eyes shining. “So you really are my valiant knight?”
He grinned, wicked and full of promise. “Not a knight—something meaner. I intend to breed you like a brood mare, fill your belly till it’s swollen with my seed. You’ll ride with me, spread for me, give me strong sons.”
A smile curled her lips, heat burning in her gaze. “Good. I’ll be ready in an hour.”
“See to it,” he said. He strode to her, gripped one heavy tit in his palm, squeezed till she gasped, then let go and left the room.
When she finally descended, dressed for travel, she glanced at her husband, standing small and broken behind the desk.
“Darling?” she called, voice sweet as poisoned honey, her hips swaying, the memory of James’s cock still throbbing between her thighs.
“I’m leaving with James,” she said.
He slumped, “Go.”
She inclined her head and left with James.
Outside, dusk smoldered along the horizon, streaking the sky in bruised purples and pinks, a dirty gold light painting the rough boards of the street. Karen found James waiting by the post, arms folded, boots set apart like he owned the dust beneath them. Michaela stood there too, dark hair tucked behind her ears, her eyes cool and wary as they raked Karen up and down.
Karen let herself linger in that tension, her full tits thrust out, a knowing smirk teasing her lips. “I see why you like her, James,” she said, stepping beside him with easy confidence. Mary, quiet as ever but not shy, appeared with her bag, dark curls spilling loose, a shy little smile blooming when she saw the others.
“So you’re Karen,” Michaela said as the four assembled by the wagon. Karen just nodded, chin up, making no effort to cover the heavy swells of her tits that threatened to spill from her bodice.
Michaela’s eyes lingered, heat and curiosity mingling there. “I see why he likes you.”
“It does attract most men,” Karen grinned, cupping her breasts and giving them a little squeeze. “My best asset by far.”
Michaela surprised her by laughing—low, husky, throatier than anyone expected. “I like you,” she said, nudging Karen in the ribs, a wild kinship sparking instantly between the two women.
James watched the exchange with satisfaction, eyes cold but mouth curled up at one edge. He helped them into the wagon, hands lingering on hips, the curve of a thigh, always just a shade too intimate. He set the horses to motion, reins tight in his grip, the leather biting against calloused palms.
They rode out of the town, the wheels groaning, dust rising in swirls behind them, Mary pressed between Michaela and Karen, the heat of bodies thick under the canvas awning. Every jolt of the wagon sent Karen’s tits jiggling, the flesh quivering beneath her dress. James glanced back now and then, watching the trio of women—his women—his cock heavy in his trousers, savoring the thought of what was waiting for them at the next stop.
Hours passed in a slow, rough rhythm—ruts in the road, the clatter of harness, the distant howl of coyotes threading through the evening.
By the time they rolled into the next town, darkness had settled deep, lanterns flickering in greasy windows, the world small and hungry around the empty main street.
James parked the wagon, looping the reins over the post, the horses snorting, restless. He entered the hotel—empty save for a tired desk clerk and a drunk slumped over in the corner. With a handful of coins, he secured two rooms. The women claimed the upstairs for themselves, their laughter echoing down the hall, as they dragged their bags up and disappeared into flickering candlelight.
James felt the itch under his skin—the need for violence, or cunt, or both. He left the hotel, long strides carrying him through the street, coat billowing, moonlight silvering the dust. The air was thick with the smell of horse, hay, and sweat, and just beneath it, the musky tang of something ripe and wanting.
That was when he saw her—a tall, willowy blonde standing by the barn, posture loose, hips cocked, dress rucked up over long legs. Her eyes were blue, sharp, challenging, tits small but pert beneath a faded blouse. Her body language screamed want, though her mouth would never admit it.
She watched him approach, head tilted, lips curling in a sneer. With a deliberate step, she bumped him—full body, tits mashed against his chest, her cunt almost brushing the seam of his thigh. The friction sent a pulse straight through him.
“Why don’t you fucking watch where you’re going,” she snapped, all teeth and venom, though her gaze flicked over his body, measuring the bulge of his cock through worn denim.
He frowned, masking the surge of interest. “Sorry, ma’am.”
But she wasn’t done—moving to block his path, challenging him with every inch of her posture. Her words dripped with contempt, her smirk wide. “Now hang on, I’m not done with you yet. At a distance, you’d almost pass for a man. But you’re certainly a disappointment up close, aren’t you? You know what you are, just trash. A bottle of whiskey for courage and the manners of a goat.”
James rolled his jaw, letting her words cut, then shrugged, voice dry as old leather. “That would be a great title to a book, if I ever chose to write one.”
The anger in him simmered, low and hot. He felt her challenge, felt his cock stir with the promise of conquest and the sharp tang of defiance. She wanted something from him—attention, humiliation, maybe a hard lesson only a man like him could teach.
He stepped around her, intending to ignore the game, but she wasn’t satisfied. Quick as a snake, she stuck out a boot, tripping him. He hit the ground, dust in his mouth, the world narrowing to the taste of grit and the sound of her laughter.
‘Bitch.’ He spat dirt, climbed to his feet, and fixed her with a glare that promised retribution. She was still laughing, hands on slim hips, blonde hair messy, eyes bright with challenge.
He moved, fast, catching her by the arm. She yelped, fought, but he was stronger, dragging her through the barn doors into the thick, hot dark, lit only by slivers of moon through broken planks. He threw her into the hay, the strands catching in her hair, dress riding up over her thighs. He stripped off his hat, tossed it onto a hay bale, peeled off his coat, every movement deliberate, slow, showing her the inevitability of what was to come.
“Fuck off,” she spat, voice cracking.
James just smiled—a cold, dangerous thing. He drew his belt, the leather whispering as he pulled it free, snapped it once in the air. She tensed, expecting pain, but he rolled her, tied her wrists, the roughness of his hands igniting fear and something else, raw and dark.
He flipped her back, caught her stare, saw the heat and hate tangled together in her eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he hiked her dress up over her hips, baring the pale thighs, the vulnerable swell of her cunt beneath thin, torn bloomers.
His knife flashed, edge gleaming, and she froze. With a single, precise motion, he sliced her bloomers away, fabric falling, exposing the slick folds of her cunt, her breath coming fast now, chest heaving, nipples hard beneath the fabric.
James let the knife fall into the hay. He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, rough fingertips grazing her soft skin, the scent of her cunt sharp and musky, hunger blossoming in him. Her legs parted, not by will but by the simple force of his body, his cock swelling thick and insistent behind his fly, already leaking at the tip.
“What are you doing?” she stared, eyes wide, body tensed, every muscle braced for pain or pleasure—she wasn’t sure which.
“Teaching you some manners,” James growled, his tone rough as gravel. He flicked the knife closed, slid it back into his belt, and leaned down between her trembling thighs. He could smell the heat pouring from her cunt, sweet and animal and desperate. Without hesitation, he buried his face between her legs, tongue flattening, delving deep, tasting her.