What a ride it's been, these last sixty years. I was twenty when I returned in 1874, to what became my ranch when Daddy died a day later. Mother had died and was in fact the main reason I was sent to Virginia to a girl's finishing school one month later. I was an only child and Daddy, never that close to me anyway, couldn't see his way clear to finish raising me by himself. Oh, My name's Tess by the way. That's short for Theresa, a name I never use.

Yeah, that makes me eighty now--and that's even harder to believe. And, I have the strange but strong feeling my days are running out. The long, roller coaster ride began on the stage coach trip from the train station to our isolated ranch in central Texas. After chasing off the Indians that attacked us, an exercise in which I managed to drop three of them with a Colt, one of the passengers, Dell, and I became quite friendly. We became so friendly that we fucked that night in town where we got off the train--all night, too; He was made the new ranch foreman two days later.

And that's been the story, mostly, of my life--fucking that is. Within the first week of arriving home, I acquired three more lovers. Let me see: there was Dell, of course; then Randy Getwell, the doctor; who was followed by Jeff Star, the sheriff; and then Orville (Orvy, I called him) Tort, the town's new and young lawyer. Didn't waste much time, did I.

All four men either suspected or actually knew about each other, but put up with the situation in order to keep fucking me. Like it or lump it, see? And that was the problem. They didn't like it and jealousies eventually surfaced in a bad way. A little party I arranged only aggravated the jealousies, much to my regret.

I managed to notify each of the men that I wanted to see them for a private conference at the ranch on a certain date. To that date, I'd never "entertained" men at the ranch, other than Dell the foreman anyway. They were told it was to be supper and then the conference. I also said, in a rather sultry voice, that they should bring a clean change of clothes along. Hah! I think they got that message loud and clear.

None knew that any of the others would be attending. Long before the date of the party, most of the ranch hands knew about my sexcapades, at least those with Dell--it was nearly impossible to keep such things secret for long. They were paid extra wages to keep their mouths shut in town (a few inevitably didn't), so I wasn't overly worried about them observing the goings on that night.

Dell arrived at the ranch house first, of course, since he was the ranch foreman and was already "in residence" so to speak. Doc Randy showed up next, totally unsuspecting of anyone else's presence as Dell's horse had long been stabled for the night. His horse was stabled as well. His jaw really dropped when I invited him into the front parlor and he saw Dell sitting in a chair. Sheriff Star and lawyer Tort arrived together, so they knew something was going on, but all four men were speechless when Star and Tort walked into the parlor to find Dell and Randy also present.

"Well, boys, I think the jig is up. Obviously, the only conference I had in mind was a five way conference and I was thinking of the bedroom, not the 'conference' room. But first things first. Dinner's in ten minutes, so if you'll excuse me, I'll go tend to finishing it up. I did prepare the meal, but I had a lot of help from our excellent ranch cook. I told him I was having dinner meeting for business matters concerning the ranch.

I could see his facial expression as he mumbled under his breath, "Yeah, and I'm the governor of Texas, too."

I just grinned.

No one complained about dinner. The roast pheasant and roast quail with sweet yams, honey, fresh garden peas, fresh baked bread, and hot, black coffee were very well received. No one turned down the generous helpings of apple cobbler either. Daddy had always kept a well stock wine rack with some really excellent vintages. That offering was accepted with even more smiles. Dinner conversation was pleasant, but juste a shade tense.

So, at meal's end, I said, "Gentlemen, here's an excellent vintage of brandy and a humidor of cigars. Why don't you all go out on the verandah and enjoy both while I help cook clean up things in here."

They grabbed glasses, the brandy, the cigars and trooped out to the designated place. Earlier in the day I'd had chairs and rockers placed out there. I overhead quite a buzz of conversation, some of it rather heated, but I got no real sense of what was being said.

Forty-five minutes later, the buzz had dropped to normal conversation levels when I called out, "All right, gents, it's time for our conference."

When they filed back in, they stopped in a perfect line and gawked in shocked surprise at my naked and oiled body, glistening in the lamp light and in a full front confrontation. My manicured bush and my nipples/boobs were the main targets of observation. Not a word was spoken until I finally broke the silence.

"Well, do you like what you see? Are you entirely speechless? Tell you what, first one naked gets first dibs on me. Any takers?"

God, did that break the standoff. Clothes flew in every direction as the men competed for the prize. Lawyer Tort with his unbelievably big cock won the race. With his monster erection showing him the way, he stumbled over to me and grabbed me in a clinch. I latched onto his cock as he closed with me and aimed it between my legs so the top of it glided along my very wet crevice. Pubic bone to pubic bone, the entire head of his cock poked out behind me in clear view, to anyone who happened to be looking, anyway.

My tits were mashed flat against Orville's chest--well as flat as they were going to get and that wasn't very flat. I didn't have the biggest boobs in the world, but they were more than adequate for most men and they were very firm and perky--stood right up there proudly, don't cha know.

I think we were all lust crazed in those first few minutes--minutes, hell, for half or more of the night! I know I suddenly found myself up against a wall with Randy's cock pushing into my swollen cunt lips. I blinked and his cockhead sank into my cunt opening. I blinked again and that cock was buried into my pussy as deep as there was room for it. My legs were around his waist and my arms around his neck. That cock was pounding into me so hard that several bric-a-brac items fell to the floor from their shelf spaces.

I only got a brief look, but the other three men were pumping their cocks as they watched the fuck show in front of them. I shivered with my first orgasm of the night; Randy quickly followed, emptying his load of man milk into my depths.

Sheriff Jeff sat Indian style on the floor, pounding his pole. As Randy's cock fell out of my creamed pussy, I stumbled over to the sheriff and pushed in over onto his back. He didn't offer any resistance either.

"Hold on, Jeff, you're in for the ride of your life. I dropped down on his stiff pole for with a satisfying squelch from my cum filled pussy. When I hit bottom, I leaned forward and squashed my tits into his chest, making my ass a real target. Neither Dell nor Orvy moved except to stare at my actions again. Randy was still recovering.

"Well, one or the other of you two might do something besides just sit there. Do you see a likely target for those stiff poles anywhere in the room?"

Dell moved first and bounded over behind me.

"Alright, Dell, show me what you can do."

After first rubbing his cock up and down what was available to him of my cleft with its heavy coat of mixed cum, he centered his purple bulb on my rosette.

"Cream up some fingers and use them first, Dell. Prepare the way a little bit, dummy."

Dell slicked up his fingers as he was told. He rubbed my slit pretty hard in the process. I felt the first finger poke my hole and then pop through my back hole. He wasn't very gentle with that either. i think I made him mad when I scolded him to use fingers first. A second finger rammed into me, followed by a third. Then all fingers were pulled out. I was still humping up and down on the sheriff with some gusto.

Dell grabbed my ass from both sides to bring my humping to a halt. His cock touched my back hole and then, with a mighty thrust, Dell thrust his bulbous cockhead through the target. A portion of his shaft followed right behind before the lack of moisture stopped him. He remedied that quickly enough with the copious amounts of cum juices available. With the next hard thrust, he was balls deep into my ass. It hurt, but was pleasurable at the same time.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Lawyer Tort had decided to rejoin the party of his own accord--in other words, I hadn't yet invited him back into the fray. He walked up behind behind Dell. Now Dell was going really hot and heavy, half mad, in my ass. Too late, he realized somebody was behind and trying to bugger his ass. After slicking up his cock, Tort punched his way into Dell's ass and sawed away into Dell as Dell backed out my ass and he backed out of Dell as Dell thrust into my ass. Quite a rhythm was established.

My thought was that Dell had way to much macho to accept that buggering for any reason and Tort had reason to watch his back after tonight. Then I lost most conscious thought as sex became the only thought on my brain. I did manage to holler at Doc Randy.

"Come on Doc, I've still got one hole left to fill. My mouth needs fucking."

And the night was just getting started.

When we finally quit out of sheer exhaustion, each of us fell wherever into a fitful sleep--in a chair, on a table, on the floor--as I said, wherever. I'd arranged for an early morning batch of water to heat on the kitchen cook stove, so we had hot water with which to clean ourselves shortly after dawn. After everyone was dressed in their clean clothes, a hot, generous breakfast was brought up from the cook house. All four men were gone before the sun was two hours old.

The four beaus lasted well over a year although we never had an orgy party again. Then, Lawyer Tort tried to indict Dell for some alleged cattle rustling. The case was dismissed for lack of a single shred of evidence. However, two months later, Lawyer Tort was found conveniently dead with an arrow in his chest and another in his back. Was it Indians? There were a lot of unanswered questions about that incident. But that was what the coroner said, murder by party or parties unknown, but most likely, Indian ambush.

A year later, Dell got thrown from a bronc he was breaking and hit his head on a fence rail on his way down to the ground. Dead of head injuries before he did--hit the ground that is. By then I could run the ranch without his help, but I still needed a foreman, so I moved one of the older, long time hands (not Sam again) up to the job. However, he didn't gain sexual access to me as Dell before him had.

Sheriff Jeff Star, already middle aged when I came home from the east, died of a heart attack after he shot it out with an outlaw. The outlaw died in the gun fight. I had fucked the sheriff purely for selfish reasons. I wanted him indebted to me.

That left me high and dry, sexually speaking--at least for a while. Ever since I came home from school, one man wasn't enough to keep me satisfied. But Doc Randy, the only one of the foursome left, sure tried and came the closest to doing so of any man who tried. His wasn't the biggest cock in the flock, but he was expert in how to use that sword of his.

Three months later, Doc Randy came down with a case of dysentery. Despite his best efforts to doctor himself, he couldn't shake that case of trots. He died at the end of three weeks. That left me once again looking for one or more sexual outlets.

Over the ensuing months I had a couple of one night stands that I regretted, one with a handsome drummer (what westerners called traveling salesmen) and one with an itinerant preacher. He was a bachelor, kinda cute, and very inexperienced. So I spent most of that time abstaining. I kept looking around for some other flavors of cock to add to my bed time fun. Abstinence just wasn't my cup of tea.

My next exceptionally flavorful spice addition happened this way.

I quite often rode out alone to inspect the cattle and ranch conditions in general. Things like: was there adequate water, did cattle need to be moved to newer grass, and so on. Sure I had a foreman doing that, but I liked to keep my finger right on things. It never hurt to let the hands know I was directly involved in ranch affairs and on top of all that happened on the Bar BQ...

There were Indians around from time to time, but they'd not been causing much trouble at that particular time and didn't seem to be close around. So I rode unafraid of such. Besides, as I proved on that stage ride home, I could shoot and shoot straight when required. I wore a Colt on my hip and had a Winchester in the saddle boot. So, when I topped a small rise of land, it was with some surprise that I observed the scene a short distance away.

Two Comanche Indians, one male and one female, sat by a very small, smokeless fire in a sparse stand of trees near a tiny brook. They were roasting two small animals. I was inadvertently upwind of them and so, never smelled the fire or roasting meat before I showed myself atop the rise. The wind carried the scent of both me and my horse directly their way. The Indian ponies immediately wickeder and looked my way. I was busted.

I was close enough that with my blonde long hair and my clothes that fit tight enough, especially my top, that the two Indians who turned to look, pretty much had to figure me as female. They made no threatening moves. Neither did I. In fact, I raised my hands shoulder high, palms open and out. That indicated I was keeping them away from the Colt on my hip and the Winchester in the saddle boot.

After a pause and careful look-over of me, the male motioned me on into his camp. I looked both of them over as I walked my horse slowly toward them. The male was tall, sinewy, broad shouldered, and possessed of a body full of toned muscle. His chiseled face with its high cheekbones was set off by his coal black hair with one feather stuck behind his ear.

He wore only ankle high moccasins and a breech clout. Oh, he did have his medicine bag (charms to ward off evil spirits) strung around his neck. There was no way to determine his age, but I guessed he'd not seen too many winters. Now there stood one hell of a healthy, handsome chunk of man flesh, Indian or no.

Hmmm.

The female was definitely very young. She had to be between mid-teens and mid-twenties, but again, hard to really tell. She was a thing of beauty, dressed in a cured hide dress with buckskin stringers around the hem, the ends of her long sleeves, and around the neck opening. Her coal black hair was fixed in two long braids down her back. A double strand of trade goods beads encircled her neck. Delicately beaded moccasins covered her small feet.