Chapter 1

I’m the black sheep of my family. I have a ranch out in the middle of nowhere, way out west. I raise and train quarter horses. I don’t make much money, but I sure enjoy life.

My older sister thinks I’m scum because of how I live. You see, I never felt the need to have a full-time woman, whether a girlfriend or a wife. I don’t understand love, as it exists in America these days. I don’t need to be bullied or criticized or guilted or blackmailed. I definitely don’t need to perform stupid boy tricks to get the approval of some female in order to get access to her pussy now and then, always on her terms.

I like whores. It’s a simple, uncomplicated, commercial transaction. We both get something from the exchange. If I like the way she does things, I can always hire her again, but if I want a redhead some night, the blonde whore I banged like a drum last week isn’t going to be pissed at me, and my money is going to get me just as good a time if I want to hire the blonde again next week. I don’t understand why prostitution is illegal. It seems to me things would be better for everyone if hooking was legal, brothels were licensed, the girls got medical care, and the pimps and traffickers got put out of business.

Miss Kitty runs a fun little whorehouse within easy driving distance of my ranch. As you might have guessed, she calls it the Longbranch Saloon. Miss Kitty’s real name is Donna. She has her girls dress up like saloon girls with seven layers of red petticoats or other interesting old west style underwear. It’s fun to just bend a girl over, hike up her skirts and do her from behind. Now most girls who are in “the life” for money don’t care if you cum quick, and they don’t expect you to make them cum. Actually, it’s better for them, because then they can turn more tricks with hair trigger guys.

I have a pretty regular date with Donna the last Friday of every month, and I do make Donna cum until she screams her little head off. I don’t let myself squirt until her eyes roll back and she passes out. I pay her, just like any other whore, and she doesn’t make any demands on me, but we are more like friends than typical whore and John. Donna is real selective, and she doesn’t turn nearly as many tricks as the other girls. I know she has other regulars, but she doesn’t rub my face in it or make any attempts to make me jealous. I understand she is a whore, and she’s going to fuck other men if she wants their money, or she likes their dick. I could go over to one of the big brothels that service the oil field man camps, but I almost always go to the Longbranch because it is calmer and safer. Donna doesn’t care how many of her girls I fuck, and as a businesswoman, I think she appreciates my loyalty to her establishment.

So you see, I’m a typical old Cowboy who is incorrigible and perverted and going straight to hell.

I was shocked as hell when Eunice, my big sister called me up.

George: “My goodness (I try not to swear to Eunice) Eunice, has hell frozen over and I didn’t get the news flash?”

Eunice: “Well, Georgie Porgy, you could say that. I’ve got some trouble I can’t handle, and I need a favor. My youngest, you remember Sally, don’t you? The little minx thinks that turning fourteen gives her license to drop out of school and become the world’s biggest slut, and make me a grandma WAY before I’m ready.

“Could I put her on the Grey Dog Express up to your place? If you worked her little fingers to the bone, cooking and cleaning and washing for you, and when she was almost done with that, make her muck out stalls and anything else heavy and dirty you can come up with, she might come to her senses and stop fighting me about every little thing.

“Can you do some kind of reality therapy to show her that if she blows off school and bangs every boy she thinks is cute that she’ll end up pregnant and working as a whore or shoveling shit for the rest of her life?

“I need you to make her hate your guts, Georgie. None of your usual tricks, being the cool uncle and making her love you, OK?”

George: “Are you sure you trust me alone with your daughter?”

Eunice: “Heavens no, but I figure you are too old to light her fire. If she cons you into committing a felony with her and you knock her up, you deserve what you get. I WILL press charges, so don’t fall for her Lolita act.”

George: “What are your options if I say, ‘no’?”

Eunice: “Nothing good. Signing her over to juvenal justice or child welfare, I suppose.”

George: “That would mean you gave up on her completely. The only thing kids learn in Juvie is how to be a better crook. If a kid has ambition, it gets channeled to attempting bigger crimes.

“I guess it’s worth a try to see if clean air, pure water, and hard work will give her a different outlook. Send the little miscreant my way. Just so you know, I’m going to be at least two hours late picking her up, so when you get the panic phone call, tell her a ranch doesn’t run on a schedule, like a bus. I’m sure she will hate me because I don’t cater to any of the dietary nonsense teenagers are into these days, and I’m not changing what I have for dinner.”

Eunice: “Expect her on the 13:30 bus two days from today. Thanks brother. Do your best, please. I won’t be mad if she crashes and burns, but I appreciate you trying.

“By the way, she won’t have a phone or any money. No cell service where you live anyway, and she’d just get in trouble with any money, so she’ll be hungry.”

I was surprised that my fists were balled up tight and there was a cold ball of rage in the pit of my stomach. I still didn’t know why Eunice hated me, but it was obvious she still thought I was a pervert and a hopeless case because I thought prostitution should be universally legal and that whoring was a vocation, just like any other.

I drove my rusty old 1949 pickup with the worn-out suspension to pick up my niece from the bus stop at the café in town, about a hundred miles from my ranch. Like I’d told my sister, I was two hours late.

I was shocked as hell by the girl waiting on the bench outside the Red Rooster. She was as pretty as our mom had been. The good-looking genes had skipped over Eunice and my generation.

Sally was five feet tall, with long, jet black hair, shocking blue eyes, and pale ivory skin. She was dressed like a whore-in-training with booty jean shorts that showed a shocking amount of under cheek and a crop top that showed a vast expanse of flat belly and under boob. She had a tiny purse, and no luggage.

I pulled up to the café and got out of the old Ford.

George: “Hi there, convict. I’m your evil Uncle George. Welcome to my little slice of hell.”

Sally: “Hey. Here I am to serve my sentence, warden.”

I took her into the Red Rooster and ordered her a BLT. It was one of the things they didn’t fuck up too bad. The girl was hungry enough not to complain. She didn’t object to the apple juice either.

After she finished, I took her out to the pickup and drove her to the Farm and Ranch store. I bought her mostly Carhart farm clothes, as baggy and unflattering as possible. I picked out deerskin work gloves from the kid’s rack. I got her a pair of tall rubber boots, a pair of Ropers, and a pair of riding heel Justin’s. I threw white cotton little girl’s underwear I thought would fit her tiny body on the pile. I was going for being as insulting as possible, so the underwear tops were either undershirts or tee shirts, no bras. She didn’t have more than egg size bumps on her chest anyway. I suppose I was trying to convince myself she was a little girl, too young to be of sexual interest, as much as to humiliate my niece.

George: “Wear a pair of jeans and one of the work shirts. You’ll get torn up working in that hooker getup you were wearing.”

I threw all her old clothes in the trash bin by the counter in the store.

Sally came out of the dressing room looking like a farm kid. I breathed a premature sigh of relief, because I thought the skinny waif wouldn’t ever get a rise out of Mr. Happy, so I was safe.

I took her to the Superette, and got her a toothbrush, hairbrush, Mane and Tail horse shampoo and conditioner for her hair, and heavy-duty deodorant. I got her a big bottle of Corn Husker’s, hoping I could get her to do enough work to tire her out too much to get into mischief.

The afternoon sun was still hot, and my pickup doesn’t have air conditioning. I saw right away that Sally was going to be a challenge. The brat had unbuttoned the work shirt enough to show off the curve of her itty-bitty-titties. She hadn’t put on an undershirt. Her tits were tiny, but they were tits, and Mr. Happy noticed and reacted. Sally saw the levitation in my jeans right away and giggled, so I knew I was in big trouble.

I tried to stare at the road, but my peripheral vision has always been extraordinarily wide, so I couldn’t help but see what my niece was showing off. I started having totally inappropriate thoughts about what I could do to make the little girl cry and rue the day she tried to maneuver me. I might be an evil man, but I was no child rapist, and that’s what my perverted brain kept suggesting as a way to reduce the brat to tears.

George: “You were supposed to put on a tee shirt, so the work shirt doesn’t rub your skin raw or make you itch. Please button up at least two more buttons, so I don’t drive in a ditch and kill us both.”

Sally: “So you admit you noticed I’m female and old enough to be interesting?”

George: “I’m not admitting anything.”

Sally: “It’s too hot to be all covered up.”

George: “There’s stuff out here that will mess up your skin, including the sun. You have to learn to cover up to protect yourself.”

Sally: “So my skin is nice enough to need protecting?”

George: “Don’t be a brat. I live a hundred miles from anywhere. If I decide to spank you, no one will hear you cry, and the CPS people around here laugh when ranch kids try to turn in their parents.”

Sally: “Mom has broken more than a few wooden spoons on my butt. Are you going to spank my bare bottom to be sure it makes an impression?”

George: “If you are going to be like that, I’ll use a wooden paddle, and you can sleep naked in the hay loft with a wool Army Surplus blanket.”

Sally: “Oh, I’m SO scared.”

George: “You ought to be.”

Sally: “Why don’t you just back hand me on my smart mouth?”

George: “I’m not that dumb, little girl.”

Sally: “Look, I’m not who mom has told you I am. For as long as I can remember, mom’s been on my case, telling me I’m a slut who is going straight to hell. I admit I started masturbating really young, and I do masturbate a LOT, but if I make myself cum five or six times a day, I can act more proper and not throw myself at every guy I see.

“I definitely want a guy to fuck me, but I haven’t met the right guy to do me yet, so I’m not as out of control as mom thinks. Please try not to get blinded by mom’s warped view of me.”

We finally got to the ranch house. I had been planning to put Sally in Eunice’s childhood room, but I decided I didn’t want her in the house at night. I made her carry her stuff and took her to a barn that had groom’s quarters, It was filthy because it hadn’t been used for years. I showed her the cleaning supplies.

George: “This is your room. Clean it up. If you behave yourself, I might get you a new mattress. Act up, and you’ll be sleeping on straw, on the floor. That surplus blanket is scratchy enough to keep a tough as nails ranch hand awake all night, so don’t tempt fate and mess with me. There’s a bathroom through the gray door. There’s no hot water, but your mom says you need a cold shower to get your mind off the path you are heading down.

“Clean up. Put on an undershirt and come up to the house for dinner.”

I left before Sally could think of some smart-ass thing to say.

I made Hamburger Helper and a green salad. I set the table, and things were ready to dish up when Sally came in the back door.

We sat down to dinner. She ate without comment. When we were done, I told her to put the leftovers in Tupperware and in the fridge, then do the dishes.

Sally did what I asked.

I went in the living room and started the latest episode of Yellowstone. Sally came into the room and sat down next to me, pressing her little body against mine.

Sally: “Will I turn out like Beth, growing up on a ranch, and not having a mother to raise me?”

George: “This is entertainment, not real life. If you want to watch, keep quiet.”

Sally: “I think there might be some lessons in the show. I thought we could talk about how to keep me from becoming an evil, cock teasing bitch.”

George: “Only one warning here, Sally. Do it again, and I’ll wash your mouth out with Lifebuoy.”

Sally: “Well you’re no fun! You are going to believe mom’s lies about me just because she’s your sister, aren’t you? I’ve got news for you, Unk, you aren’t going to redeem yourself in her eyes no matter how shitty you treat me or how successful you are turning me into a Junior Stepford Wife.”

George: “Fun isn’t part of ranching. I’m going to start the stream back at the beginning. Keep quiet and stop the inappropriate talk, or I will get the Lifebuoy.

“I know Eunice is still going to hate me for whatever sin I committed when we were teenagers. She’s hated me since I was fourteen, and I’ve never known why. I am sick of it, so don’t think I’m doing things because Eunice told me. Your behavior seems dysfunctional and self-destructive to me, and I’m trying to help you get that sorted out before you do permanent damage to yourself.”

Sally stayed quiet but having her head on my shoulder stirred me up more than I wanted to admit. After the show was over, I walked her out to the barn. I showed her the intercom phone and explained about how the horses would start being noisy if there was a predator type critter roaming around. I told her the barn was too strong for even a grizzly to get in, plus her room was on the second floor. Since wolves and bears can’t climb ladders, she’d be safe if she stayed in her room, but if the horses got noisy, she should call me so I could protect my stock.

She had cleaned up the room, but she had the Army blanket on a pile of straw on the floor.

George: “What’s wrong with the bed?”

Sally: “It’s filthy. I can’t get the dust off it. Besides, there’s a bunch of yellow stains on the cover. I don’t know if they are from pee or sperm, but I don’t want my virgin butt anyplace close to that filth.”

I laughed because she was trying to get me thinking about sex, and she was trying to get my brain thinking pervy thoughts by dropping the info that she was a virgin. I had never been crazy to deflower virgins. They are usually scared, the fear can amplify any pain they do feel, and their lack of experience keeps them from getting crazy hot, so they aren’t fighting to get every single possible orgasm. A really tight pussy can feel really good if the girl is really wet and creamy so your cock can slip and slide. If she is dry, it can actually be painful when a girl is super tight. I’ve already mentioned that I prefer the simple, uncomplicated commercial transaction of renting a whore’s body to play with and hiring her cooperation to get me off; to the often-twisted uncertainty of trying to seduce a civilian chick.

However, Sally is so pretty and her body is so sexy, I found myself fighting to keep myself from coveting the experience of initiating my niece.

George: “Here’s an alarm clock. Breakfast is a 05:00. I suggest you just get dressed in the morning and shower after work, so you are clean at dinner.

“Good night.”

Sally: “Thanks for not letting mom send me to Juvie.”

Then the minx kissed my cheek.

I went down the ladder and back to the house.

I wanted to drive over to the Longbranch and give the new Russian girl a tumble rough enough to work out my frustrations, but instead, I went to bed and tried to sleep. I was naked in bed, trying to think of the Russian girl and not Sally, as I beat my meat. I heard the door open downstairs and the third step squeak, so I let go of Mr. Happy and pulled the covers up around my neck. The moonlight through the window let me see Sally dropping her flannel nightgown on the floor, and before I could tell her to stop, a naked fourteen-year-old girl was in bed with me.

Sally: “Oh, you sleep naked, Uncle George. Wow! You have a boner! My gosh, your cock is really big! I’ll bet you could really make me cum good with such a big dick. I’m horny all the time. I’m a bad girl, and you know everyone says that all I need is a hard fuck from a good man to straighten me out.”

George: “It’s a felony. I’m not going to jail because you think you are so horny, you’ll just die.”

Sally: “Do you still go fuck a whore every Friday night? You could fuck me instead and save a bunch of money. If you screw me two or three times a day, I’ll calm down and be able to think of how I ought to behave. Just think how much better you’d feel if you got to fuck three times a day instead of just once a week. I’m a virgin, so there’s no chance of getting a disease from me, and if you keep me well fucked, I’d have no reason to take a chance on catching something by fucking anyone else.

“I could be your make-believe wife. Besides keeping you well fucked, I could help you with the ranch. I could take classes and learn to be a really good cook. You could get me pregnant right away if you want to or put me on birth control if you want to wait to knock me up.”

George: “We are NOT having sex. If I got you pregnant, your mother would press charges. I don’t want some murder’s prick up my butt.”

Sally: “I’d say a hitchhiker did it. He raped me when you were out rounding up horses.”

George: “Your mom would still think I impregnated you, no matter what you say. Besides, a DNA test would prove you were lying, and I KNOW for a fact your mom would insist on a test.”

Sally: “Why the hell aren’t we already having sex, Uncle George? We both need to fuck. You would be a lot more relaxed, and you wouldn’t worry so much if you would just loosen up a bit and take me up on my offer. I wouldn’t feel all itchy and frantic to get screwed if we were making love, so I wouldn’t have a reason to give you a bad time. Please take me seriously, Uncle George. I might be fourteen chronologically, but my brain works at an adult level.

“By the way, I know we aren’t genetically related, so it wouldn’t be incest. We can get one of those DNA tests you talked about and prove we aren’t related if you need convincing.

“You’ve lived out here forever, so I’m sure you know a friendly old judge who would declare me an adult and marry us. That way, we get what we need biologically and psychologically, but we do it legally, so you don’t go to jail or go against your morals.”

George: “So you know I was adopted?”

Sally: “Yes. I don’t know why mom told me, although maybe mom wanted me to seduce you so she could rage against you some more. Did you turn her down when she wanted you to fuck her when you were teenagers? That would explain her irrational rage toward you.”

George: “That might be true. I’ve never thought about it.”

Sally: “You are a man, so of course you haven’t thought about it. That’s probably why she’s always so mad at you. You didn’t notice she was a woman, offering herself to you. That’s the kind of hurt a woman never gets over. To a girl like me, who needs sex so badly it’s about all I think about, and needing to cum so bad it can actually be painful makes being ignored a bigger insult than getting raped. I swear I could recover from getting assaulted and forced easier than from being ignored. I got being hot blooded so young from somewhere. Maybe it was from mom. Maybe she’s still pissed you didn’t take her hints and help her out when the itch in her clit was driving her crazy.”

George: “I can’t believe how you got everything turned around again so you could talk about sex and tempt and tease me some more. I am way too old for you to be genuinely attracted to me, and I don’t want to be the butt of some cruel joke of yours. Even if you really couldn’t resist an old Cowboy, there is no way I could give you all the sex you think you need. I can’t deal with this shit, Sally. I am not committing a felony to get you off, so if you are going to tease me like this, I’m just going to leave and go see my friend Donna and pay an adult woman to take care of my frustrations.”

I pulled on overalls, going commando, and a jacket, pulled on my boots, and stomped out of the house. I drove my pickup to the Longbranch. Fortunately for me, Donna didn’t have a late-night date, and after she took care of my boner so I could think, we started talking about Sally and what to do about her preoccupation with sex.

Donna: “Georgie, the girl does have a point. You could do the right girl five times a day, and you know it. What would be so wrong with having a girl who wants you, living there with you all the time? You know Judge Rogers would emancipate Sally and marry you two. That would make it legal and remove your main objection. Is she too stupid to be good company? Is she too lazy to do her share running the ranch? What’s the real objection here?”

George: “Being maneuvered by a woman into doing exactly what she wants. If I give in once, it will never end. She’ll want kids, and probably alpacas, or something else cute, and before too long I won’t be a rancher and Cowboy, I’ll be some little girl’s daddy. She’ll do the same shit to me, and I’ll never be able to just come see you if I’m feeling tense or want to try out your newest girl after I see her at the Superette, and Mr. Happy pops to attention and salutes her curves. I’ll be figuring out how to put a Unicorn horn on some poor pony for a spoiled little princess.”

Donna: “If you don’t marry this girl, she will probably end up working for someone like me. If she was my newest girl, would Mr. Happy salute her curves? Would you care what the fuck her age was if she was working in my house? What the hell would be wrong with getting to pick her cherry and be the only dick she ever fucks? If she’s so white hot, you’d get all you could handle and that would certainly improve your disposition, you grumpy old man. What’s wrong with that?”

George: “I’d never get to do another girl just for the hell of it. If I get bored with you because you are blonde, you aren’t going to throw a hissy if I want to visit Red Headed Hannah some Friday night.”

Donna: “I’ve got news for you Cowboy; I get extremely pissed at you when you get the yen for a change of any kind. I’d have changed professions long ago if you’d asked me to be your full time, exclusive whore. I’m a businesswoman and a professional though, and I choke it down so I can keep liberating some of your money every Friday night.

“Now if Sally is so itchy at fourteen, I’ll bet you are right, and she’ll want your bun in her oven PDQ. When that little girl turns fourteen and is as hot or hotter than her mom, I’ll bet momma Sally will have a lot of empathy for her little girl and you’ll end up with a nice little harem, so don’t think you’ll be limited to one girl forever. I swear a horny girl who loves her daddy can be the hottest piece of ass a man ever gets.”

George: “So you have a low opinion of me too. Why does everyone think I’m a child molester?”

Donna: “You would be her hero, not a molester, if you were brave enough to take care of her when she needs you. It’s consensual, if she asks you for it, Cowboy.”

George: “It’s still illegal.”

Donna: “When did you care so much about what’s legal? I remember what you had to say about the episodes of Yellowstone with the wolves and grizzly. You didn’t care what was legal when it came to protecting dumb animals. Wouldn’t it be even more right to protect sweet little daughters from their hormonal compulsions?”

George: “This conversation is an illustration of what happens when I have any kind of relationship with a woman. You say stuff that seems logical and sensible and makes me the patsy that will get sent to jail when things inevitably go to shit. If we kept things as a business transaction, you wouldn’t be saying anything more than, ‘Wanna pay extra for unlimited pops?’ and my head wouldn’t be spinning with your dozen reasons why I’m wrong.” __

Donna: “Georgie, your girls would never let you go to jail. They’d need their daddy more than girls with virtuous dads do. Your daughters would fight tooth and claw to keep you home to take care of every little thing for them.”

George: “Donna, if I do what I really want and marry the girl, so I CAN screw her hot teenage body as often as she needs it, I’m gonna leave the girl with no way to make a living besides hooking, when I go to the big roundup in the sky. It seems like an irresponsible thing to do to a girl I’m supposed to love and want to take care of.

“What I think I should do is to have you take her as an intern and make her change the beds and wash the towels and sheets and see that whoring ain’t easy or glamorous.”

Donna: “If you send her here, she’s gonna auction off her cherry to some John, and you won’t get to pick it. She’ll make friends with Liza the lezzie and she’ll be turning tricks in a week or less, playing with girls to have fun after work, and all you’ll have is silence and horses that may love you, but won’t let you screw them or keep you warm at night.

“What you don’t realize is that a precocious girl like Sally needs to cum just as much as you did when you were a perpetually horny teenager. Girls are different though, and she needs your cock inside her nearly as much as she needs to cum. That’s why you need to do the right thing and marry Sally, so you can take care of her, the way she needs to be taken care of.”

I was pissed at Donna, so I did something really mature. I went down the hall to the skinny little Russian chick’s room and took out all my frustration and angst on her hot little cunt. She came really easy, and I got her off five or six times before my balls couldn’t take it anymore, and I pumped a respectable size load in her tight little pussy. I was surprised by the way she smiled at me and kissed me on the lips and told me to come visit her ANY time because I made her cum better than ever before. It seemed genuine, but maybe it was an Academy Award Winning Performance. With some girls, you just can’t tell.

Donna doesn’t do any acting. If she says she is cumming, she really is having an orgasm. I can tell she thinks I ring her bell pretty good, but she never kisses me on the mouth. It got me wondering what it would feel like to be Sally’s White Knight and have her look at me with the kind of stars I saw in the Russian girl’s eyes.

When I went back to the ranch, I did my best to avoid Sally. I slept in the barn and took a cold shower in the morning. Sally and I acted like an old married couple who were pissed off with each other. We glowered at each other and barely spoke.

Monday morning, I called CPS and got a recommendation for a family counselor. I made the appointment and dragged Sally to see the psychologist.

After six frosty sessions, Dr. Golden asked me to come in by myself.

Dr. Golden: “Why don’t you want to marry Sally? It’s the simplest and most logical way out of your predicament. She wants you. She’s fully invested in you, and she won’t give up. Sally is quite beautiful, and she has a great figure. She claims to have a very strong libido, so what’s not to like?”

George: “Aside from it being illegal? I am NOT going to jail because some teenager got horny. Well, even IF we had something to talk about, all my friends and neighbors would make jokes behind my back about being a pervert and robbing the cradle or lame incest comments. So, even if it wasn’t a felony, I don’t think that’s a good formula for a lasting marriage.

Dr. Golden: “There are legal ways to fix things, so it isn’t illegal. You need to get out of your head and quit imagining Sally is an idiot just because she is young. Tell me this: If a twenty-two-year-old girl had Sally’s looks and figure, would you?”

George: “I would. So, I suppose I need to stop being so worried and defensive so that I can talk to her and find out about the brain you tell me I’ve either missed or ignored. Are you really telling me that in your professional opinion, an old bachelor Cowboy marrying a fourteen-year-old vixen is a good idea?”

Dr. Golden: “I am, George. I’m not supposed to talk about one patient to another, but in this case, I must so you can accept that I know what I’m talking about. I was Charlene’s psychologist for a long time. Do you know why she ran out on you before the ceremony? You rubbed her raw when you initiated her at your engagement celebration, and she was never able to heal up or recover because you were in rut all the time. She knew she could never keep you satisfied, and she couldn’t face feeling inadequate for the rest of her life. It hurt her to know she wasn’t woman enough for you, and never could be.”

George: “I had no idea why Charlene left me. I infer that you believe I need a nympho wife because a normal woman couldn’t put up with me.”

Dr. Golden: “I’m saying, Sally is in love with you. Her needs are similar to your own. Don’t assume she isn’t the right girl for you just because she is young.”