El Paso - Cover

El Paso

Copyright© 2007 by Joe J

Chapter 28

Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 28 - Tyler McGuinn was a washed up rodeo bull rider when he boarded a plane in Phoenix one day in 1977. The next thing he knew, he was a no account cowboy on a cattle drive headed for El Paso in 1877. To make matters worse, he was the cowboy destined to die by the back door of Rosa's Cantina. Fate had dealt Ty an ugly hand...or maybe not.

Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Mult   Romantic   BiSexual   Historical   Harem  

I’m afraid that my usually glib tongue failed me as the two women came into my bedroom. Neither of the women said anything either. It was surreal as the three of us watched each other.

Belle unpinned her hat and took it off, then let down her long blonde hair. Maria wasn’t wearing a hat, so she only had a couple of pins to remove to let the thick mass of her shiny ebony hair fall in waves down her back.

Once the women had their hair unbound, Belle turned to Maria and started undoing the fasteners on Maria’s starched white blouse. Belle finally broke the eerie silence.

“We’ve been dying to see your breasts, Sweetie. They seem so full and firm to the touch.”

Maria didn’t seem to have any reservations about what was happening, as her only reply was a strained, “Hurry, Belle, I’m burning up inside.”

Belle leaned in and kissed Maria as her agile little fingers made short work of the whale bone buttons. Maria shrugged off the blouse as Belle was already attacking the fasteners on her long black skirt. It didn’t take long for the skirt and crinoline to join her blouse haphazardly flung across my reading chair.

When Maria was down to her cream-colored shift, the two women started on Belle’s much more formidable outfit. Undressing Belle was akin to peeling an onion as one layer after another was removed. Dress, corset, petticoats and bustle joined Maria’s simple outfit on the chair, until Belle was down to a silky camisole and lacy bloomers.

I still lay unmoving on the bed as I watched the incredibly erotic show the women were putting on. Well actually, one part of me was moving, as my Johnson tented the covers as if it were a Minuteman Missile leaving its silo. When the women made a move to shed their undergarments, I spoke for the first time.

“Let me take those off, it will be an early Christmas for me,” I said.

Both women smiled and scampered over to me. I scooted over and Belle pushed Maria in next to me, then piled in herself. It was very cozy with three of us in the double bed. As soon as Maria was situated on her back, she pulled me towards her for a kiss.

“I’ve been waiting soooo long for this day, Tyler. I thought it would never get here,” she moaned into my mouth.

I broke the kiss and started working her shift up her legs until I had it pushed up around her waist. Belle had started at the top and had the bodice pulled down also. Maria raised her hips and I finished pulling the cotton shift off her. Maria’s body was even better than her clothes hinted it was. She was not skinny, but she was firm and taut as only a teenage girl can be. Maria’s breasts appeared to be bigger, yet they stood up proudly from her chest, even though she was lying on her back. Her areolas were a dusky brown and big as a silver dollar; her nipples were also large and swollen with her desire.

Belle and I had the same idea at the same time, as both of us swooped down to take one of her tightly crinkled, swollen nipples between our lips. It was obvious from that first minute that Belle and I were naturals as a team, as we worked in perfect synchronization to bring Maria’s arousal to a peak. Belle stayed up north while I let my lips and tongue drift southward toward Maria’s fragrant center.

Maria had, without a doubt, the sweetest tasting little pussy I’d ever been near. One lick and I was hooked. No wonder I had to practically drag Belle out from under our young lover’s dress when we were down by the river last Sunday.

As I went to work, Maria demonstrated that she was as orgasmic as her sister and Abuela. Maria’s high-pitched keening moan was cut off in mid-note as Belle drove her tongue into the climaxing woman’s mouth. I had all I could do to hang on as Maria’s hips shot up off the bed, her back arched in ecstasy.

I held on until Maria sagged back down onto the mattress, then I jumped up and fitted on a sheath from my recently renewed stockpile. Clem had given me a ration of good-natured ribbing about the number of rubbers I had bought from him, but occasions like today made it all worthwhile.

I climbed back on the bed and between Maria’s soft smooth thighs as Belle watched me with feverish eyes. I used Maria’s plentiful juices to wet the end of the sheath and worked the head into Maria’s puffy little slit.

“Are you ready, Maria honey?” I asked.

Maria gave me a quick nod and pulled her knees back, so I gently pushed forward. Maria was a snug fit, but not overly tight. Her velvety smooth vagina gripped my rod firmly, but not unpleasantly. Maria moaned as I sank into her to the hilt, then started moving her hips and urging me to go faster. As excited as I was at being where I was, I happily obliged her. I managed to hold out just long enough for her to climax again, before I exploded as her internal muscles were doing the boogaloo on my one-eyed trouser trout.

Between Belle and Maria, that afternoon was the most erotic of my life. Belle was very aggressive and demanding with Maria and surprisingly, Maria seemed to love it. No matter what they were doing, Belle was always on top. Belle did get her wish of being taken while she and Maria sixty-nined. She also rode my face as Maria rode my staff.

I think that the love that seemed to be growing between the three of us is what made the experience so much better than the threesome I had while in Okinawa. After our love making, we snuggled up together and talked. Maria was all for moving in with us, provided that Belle could find a way to make it acceptable to her family. Belle, it seemed, was already thinking in that direction.

“Leave it to me, Sweetheart, it will take a few months, but I’ll fix everything,” Belle said.

Belle and Maria pulled themselves together and left me at five-thirty. Belle had Jose Colon, whom she called her coachman, waiting downstairs. She was taking Maria home and then joining me for supper at Molly’s table. Belle had rented the single room next to my little apartment for appearance sake, so she was a resident with privileges now.


For the next month or so, my life bolted along like a runaway locomotive. I was now spending at least three or four hours a day at the El Paso Hotel as the carpenters finished trimming out one room at a time. As soon as a room was finished, Belle and I started decorating it. The first room completed was the small intimate dining room. I was working with a tight budget, but thankfully, I was able to pick up ten tables and forty chairs from the defunct restaurant where Miranda once worked. The furniture was in good condition and the price was right. Belle had the idea of painting two of the walls a deep royal blue to add to the intimacy of the space, and Naomi found some heavy brocade material the same color for the drapes.

What I had been calling the piano bar turned out to be much easier, as Belle bought her way into the partnership by leasing the room and insisting on decorating it at her expense. Belle was in love with the idea of owning her own upscale cabaret and being the featured performer there.

I had my first inkling about how well off Belle actually was, when I brought up the lease deal that night as we lay in bed. The lease alone was three grand up front for three years, and Belle was talking about spending at least that much again on decorating the place. For her initial investment, Belle would keep seventy percent of the bar’s profits and become a one seventh partner in the El Paso Gentleman’s Club.

“Belle honey, I hate to see you put yourself out on a limb like this. If it will help you any, I have eight hundred and fifty dollars saved up that you can have until your bar starts making money,” I said.

Belle rolled on top of me and kissed me.

“You are so sweet, Ty, but you are forevermore dense sometimes. I’ve told you repeatedly that money is not a problem for me. Besides, I consider the bar and club as a whole, a good investment. My daddy says that money that makes money, is well spent.”

I shrugged and promised not to mention it again. Of course we both knew that it was a promise I’d have trouble keeping. I fretted about money quite a bit, because I had long-term plans for every nickel I could save. I could understand Belle’s reticence when it came to talking about whatever money she had. In 1877, a woman had about zero property rights; in fact, once she married, everything a woman owned became the property of her husband.

I still had my regular job at the Cantina del Toro. I was going to work there until a week before we were ready to open for business at the new club. I still gambled some and performed a few songs every night, but I mostly let the Hombres and Belle take care of the entertaining. I was much busier now, because we were still drawing good crowds every night.

I was also handling one or two criminal defense cases a week, mostly representing Mexicans who had a poor command of English. It was during the last week of July that I lost my first case, a fact that was made more galling because the man was clearly innocent. Seeing my client led off in shackles, headed for Brownsville for three years for stealing a cow brought me low.

Around the same time, I received my first assignment as a Deputy U.S. Marshal. I received a packet from Marshal Cahill that contained a federal warrant for an Army deserter thought to be hiding out across the river in Las Cruces, New Mexico. It took me only two days to track the man down. He wasn’t all that hard to find, as there aren’t that many huge black men with bald heads running around Eastern New Mexico. His name was Leviticus Romney.

I found him shacked up with this incredibly beautiful Apache woman. I believed him when he said it was love that caused him to desert. Hell, I’d have been tempted to do the same thing in his shoes. But of course, that conversation only happened after he and I engaged in a serious bout of fisticuffs. Romney was big and strong, but I was a cop’s son, and had boxed my way up through the Golden Glove ranks with the Police Athletic league.

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