The Ballad Of Wrangler Jane
"Honestly, Wilton Parmenter, sometimes I
don't know why I put up with you." The pretty
blonde woman thundered as she stormed out of the
Captain's quarters. With a quick leap, she threw her
leg over the chestnut mare tied outside and hopped
up and onto it. A strong pull against the reins
unhitched her.
"But Jane....." Stammered the young man in
cavalry blue who followed her out the door a few
seconds later, only to be cut off as he tripped over a
loose floorboard on the porch. Falling forward, he
somersaulted over the hitching post and into the dirt
street, knocking himself unconscious.
"Captain!" Cried out Morgan O'Rourke, the
troop's senior NCO as he ran across the compound,
followed close behind by Corporal Agarn.
At the sound of the Sergeant's voice, the
buckskin clad woman turned the horse she had just
mounted and looked down on the sprawled officer.
"Is he all right?" She asked the Sergeant as
he bent down and examined his commanding officer.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head,
Wrangler." The Irishman said. "He just had the
wind knocked out of him. A little cold water will
bring him right around."
"Do me a favor O'Rourke." She said as she
jerked the reins and aimed her horse at the main
gate. "Give me a few seconds to get out of here
before you do."
With that, she spurred her horse and
galloped the length of the fort. She didn't even look
back before she disappeared out the main gate.
"She was sure fired up about something."
O'Rourke noted.
"Guess we'd better wake the Captain up."
Agarn said.
O'Rourke pointed to the nearby horse troth
and the Corporal responding by filling his light
colored hat up with water from it.
"You know, if we put the troth back over
there," He said, pointing to the empty space in front
of the hitching post with the water filled hat. "He'd
at least have something to break his fall. At least it
always used to."
"Good idea, Agarn." The taller man replied.
"Have Vanderbilt and Hoffenmeuller move it right
after lunch."
"Sure thing, Sarge." He answered as he
poured the water onto the face of the unconscious
Captain.
"Blluu....bluuu...Jane...I..." Wilton
Parmenter gasped as the icy coldness snapped him
awake.
"Easy sir," O'Rourke said as he and Agarn
helped the now soaked Captain to his feet.
"Where's Jane?" He asked when he noticed
that her horse was gone.
"She shot out of here madder than a bear in a
hornet's nest." Agarn said as he slapped his now wet
headpiece against his trousers. "That must've been
some dilly of an argument the two of you had."
"Agarn!" The Sergeant snapped in reproach.
The Corporal quickly shut up. It wasn't often
that Morgan O'Rourke lost his temper. But when he
did, the last thing Randolph Agarn ever wanted was
to be on the receiving end of it.
"To be honest, she was somewhat angry,
Captain." O'Rourke said in a milder tone. "But she
did make sure that you were ok before she took
off."
"It really didn't start out as an argument."
Captain Parmenter said. "We were just chatting and
then out of the blue Jane suggested how much nicer
it would be if she just moved in here with me."
Both NCO's just listened quietly. If the
Captain felt like sharing his problems, then they'd be
more than willing to listen. The same would be true
if he just wanted to be left alone.
"I quickly explained that it was impossible. I
mean, we've only known each other a little over a
year now. It'll be at least another year before we
even get engaged. What would people think if they
knew we were living together? What would my
mother say? They all think we were...well....you
know."
O'Rourke was genuinely surprised at the
Captain's admission. He wondered if he was
misinterpreting it. Since the Captain had brought it
up, it seemed only fair to inquire.
"I take it then that you and Wrangler have
never...what I mean is that the two of you..." The
broad shouldered Irishman asked.
"Certainly not." Parmenter said quickly.
"We'd have to be married to do that."
O'Rourke took a deep breath and could see
the same thought reflected in Agarn's eyes. Wilton
Parmenter was naive about a lot of things. He had
become the commanding officer of F Troop and Fort
Courage based on his turning a retreat into a
successful cavalry charge in the closing days of the
civil war.
O'Rourke himself had risen to the temporary
rank of Captain during the war, only to drop back to
Sergeant following the peace. He had preferred it
that way. Parmenter, on the other hand, was the
youngest son of one of the premier Army families.
His medal had been big news and with it came the
promotion and F Troop. Yet, from what he had
heard from someone who had actually been there,
that order to charge had actually been a sneeze.
Still, even knowing his background,
O'Rourke found this new piece of information
unbelievable. Over two thousand miles from his
Philadelphia home, the Captain was still trying to
live by the rules of polite society. Out here in the
badlands, there were few white woman available.
Far fewer that looked as desirable as Wrangler Jane .
There wasn't another man in five hundred miles,
O'Rourke included, who wouldn't run to her bed if
she had offered. Yet she had offered far more than
that to the Captain, and he had turned her down.
Incredible.
"If you like Captain, we could have Dobbs
and Duffy ride out after her." The Sergeant said,
changing the subject. "She was headed away from
town, out towards the Hakowie camp. It'll be dark
in a few hours."
"No, better let her get it all out of her
system." The Captain said as he turned and headed
back into his office. "She'll be all right. After all, she
rides and shoots better than any man in the troop."
With that, he closed the door to his quarters
behind him.
Morgan O'Rourke stood there for a minute,
staring at the hard wood door. He didn't say a word
until Agarn reminded him that they had to get the
latest shipment of O'Rourke Enterprises souvenirs
off to Dodge City.
"Incredible." O'Rourke softly repeated to
himself before talking off after Agarn towards the
NCO club.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
An hour or so later, Wrangler Jane was
watering her horse alongside the banks of the small
river that defined the edge of the Hakowie
Reservation. She had ridden the mare much too hard
in her dash from the fort. It would be at least
another hour before she headed back. She was still
angry. Both at Wilton and at herself. At Wilton, for
his stubborn refusal to abandon his families
old-fashioned idea. At herself, for letting him get
away with it for so long.
"I don't even care if he never married me,
Sparkle." She said to her mare as she gently stroked
it. "I know his family would never approve of me. I
only wish that he'd give me what I need."
Jane knew that Wilton was a virgin, he had
told her that. He never asked her if she was, it
wasn't the sort of question a gentleman asked. If he
had, she wondered if she would give him the answer
he expected, or the truth. She'd had her first man
when she was 16. It was a totally forgettable
experience, but it had gotten her out of her home
back east. For the use of her body, the man had
gotten her as far as St. Louis. From there, it was
easy to find men willing to take her further.
A few of the men had been memorable, but
she had always felt something had been missing. No
man would deny she was attractive, but most were
put off by her assertiveness. They wanted nothing
to do with a woman who could out ride, out shoot
and was in many other ways more man than they
were.
That was one of the reasons she had to get
away from her family back east. They kept trying to
get her to fit the mold of what a proper young lady
should be. A role she felt she was born to rebel
against. A lifetime ago, she had been Jane Angelica
Thrift. The Thrifts of course were welcome in the
finest homes of New York, Boston and Philadelphia.
That girl had died in the bed of a man who's name
she couldn't even remember. In her place had been
born Wrangler Jane.
If she had been born a man instead of a
woman then her life would've been much different.
Then her qualities would have been appreciated.
She sometimes wished that she had been born such.
She would've been much better off. Of course then
Wilton would've had to have been born a woman
instead as well. But that might've suited him too. He
would make a better woman than man.
A sudden sound from behind the long row of
bushes caused her to crouch down and pull out her
six-shooter. The quick fluid motion of which was
the envy of every man she knew. Tying Sparkle's
reins to the shrub, she carefully moved to higher
ground.
Stepping slowly, she silently climbed an
outcrop of boulders, giving her a view of the
riverbank below. Looking down, she saw the source
of the noise.
Standing naked in the shallow edge of the
water was a young Indian maiden. Her long black
hair stretched down to the cheeks of her ass. She
was very pretty by both white and Indian standards.
Small but full breasts stood firm in the late afternoon
sun. Her entire body was a sun kissed brown,
showing that she spent a great deal of time like she
was now. Between her legs was a small batch of
black hair. Jane wondered if the smallness of the
area was natural or if the maiden trimmed it as Jane
did her own. She couldn't have been, Jane guessed,
more than 16 or 17.
Wanting to get a better look, Jane carefully
shimmied down the rocks. The girls back was now
to her so she took a chance and bolted to the edge
of the bushes. Stepping on a dry twig, Jane was
certain that she had given herself away. But the girl
never turned.
Now secure in her new vantage point, the 25
year old sat quietly and watched. And as she
watched, old familiar, but long buried feelings, once
more surfaced.
The soft skinned girl ran her wet hands up
and down the length of her body. She pressed the
roundness of her breasts, rubbing the small nipples
until they were hard.
Under her buckskin blouse, Wrangler felt her
own nipples stiffen. That was the unspoken reason
she had felt home. Aside from being more man than
many men she had met, she also sometimes felt a
man's attraction for a woman. It was years before
she learned to accept those feeling. Even longer
before she had acted on them. One night in Dodge
City she had paid a young prostitute to sleep with
her. It had been one of the most exciting times of
her life. But she had been determined not to become
a frequenter of whores. She remembered all too
well the look of disgust the harlot had given her
when she left her room the next morning. Still, the
unnaturalness of the act hadn't prevented her from
taking the money.
Instead she had buried the urges. It had been
easy enough. After all, most of the women she met
out here in the west were either whores or settler's
wives. Neither of which held much attraction for
her. Of course there was always the occasional
daughter that would catch her fancy, but those
opportunities usually never presented themselves.
They wanted husbands, the sooner the better. Most
nights she would satisfy herself with their images in
her mind.
Then she had found Wilton Parmenter. A
man feminine enough to not be bothered by her
masculinity. It only he wasn't so tied up in the
propriety of things.
The small hands of the Indian girl were now
situated between her legs. Wrangler knew that if
she could get closer she would be able to see that
the girl had her fingers up inside herself. The look
on her face was proof of that. The wetness there
must be the equal of Wrangler's own.
Finally, not able to keep still any longer,
Wrangler slid her own hand down into her trousers.
A soft moan escaped her lips as she gently stroked
her moistness. It felt so good. Memories of that girl
in Dodge filled her mind's eye. Those and the
thought of how much more wonderful it might be to
actually touch the warm softness of the girl before
her.
Standing up, she took a few steps out into
the open. The Indian maid was again turned away
from her and didn't see her at first. Then out of the
corner of her eyes she saw the buckskin clad figure.
Yelling out something in a language
Wrangler didn't understand, the Indian dove down
towards a loose squaws dress left on a nearby rock.
Rather than trying to cover herself, she emerged
from the pile with a long knife in her hand and
assumed a combative stance.
Wrangler reacted automatically to the
appearance of the knife and had her gun in hand
without even thinking about it. There they stood,
less than a dozen feet apart, with weapons drawn.
"This is silly." Wrangler thought as she
looked down at the gun and then at the knife in the
maiden's hand. "And it could turn into something
dangerous very fast."
With than she reholstered her weapon and
held both her hands up and palms outward. She
shook her head and left her hat fall free, revealing
her long tied blonde tresses.
"You are a woman." The maiden said as she
lowered the knife.
"My name is Wrangler Jane."
"The trading woman from the fort. I know of
you." Came the reply. "But I always thought you
must be old and ugly to have such a name."
"Hardly." Jane said dryly.
"I am Singing Deer, daughter of Roaring
Chicken of the Hakowie."
Jane thought for a moment and remembered
meeting the old medicine man at some function or
other at the fort.
"I've met your father." She said.
An awkward silence held for a few seconds
until Singing Deer said.
"I have never seen hair such as yours, the
color of the sun. It is very beautiful."
"Thank you." Wrangler said.
With that she reached up and pulled out the
leather thong that held it in place and let her hair fall
around her shoulders.
"That is much better." Commented the
maiden.
"I'm didn't mean to disturb your privacy,"
Jane said, trying to think of something to fill the
void. "I didn't think that I was that close to the
Hakowie Camp."
"The camp is still two hours walk from
here." Singing Deer said as she dropped the blade
and stepped closer to Wrangler Jane. "I sometimes
come to this place to be by myself and think."
"And to please yourself." Jane said without
thinking as her gaze shifted from the small brown
breasts to the dark wet patch below.
Singing Deer paused for a moment and then
continued.
"As the daughter of the medicine man, I am
promised to whoever becomes the next Chief of the
Hakowies. But as Crazy Cat will most certainly tell
you, it will be many many moons before Wild Eagle
goes to the happy hunting ground. Until that time, it
is written that no man may touch me."
"Can't be much fun." Jane said.
"It is not." The young girl said softly.
"Well I can understand that." Jane said
sympathetically. "But maybe I can help."
The tall young woman looked confused as
Jane's smile grew brighter.
"I may not be touched by a man, not even a
white man." She repeated, thinking that Jane was
planning to take her into town.
"But I am not a man." Jane grinned, thankful
for the first time in her life that she was able to say
that.
Softly rubbing her hand against the moist
mound between Singing Deer's long tanned legs,
Jane quickly replaced the look of confusion with one
of delight.
Taking the quiet moans as encouragement,
Jane removed her hand and reached up and undid
the laces of her blouse. Singing Deer watched in
fascination as it fell away, exposing the large pale
pink breasts beneath. Even more fascinating to her
was the blonde bush that was revealed when
Wrangler's pants joined her shirt on the ground.
Jane sighed as Singing Deer reached out and
placed her hands against her mellon sized mounds.
The nipples were rock hard and the touch of her
slender fingers sent shivers through Jane's body.
The younger woman experimentally ran her fingers
back and forth across them, delighting in the soft
sounds emanating from the white woman's throat.
Wrangler looked into the girl's eyes, quickly
loosing herself in their deepness. She hesitantly
lowered her mouth to the Indian's. It was a light ,
tentative kiss at first. She knew the Hakowie, like
most Indian tribes, had never had a kissing tradition.
She was unsure how Singing Deer would react.
Feeling the soft pressure of her kiss returned,
Jane pressed her tongue against the opening of
Singing Deer's mouth. The younger girl opened her
mouth instinctively and quickly tongue met tongue.
While their tongues slide back and forth,
Jane cupped Singing Deer's breasts. Then she bent
down and replaced her hands with her mouth. The
caress of her warm mouth sent a string of words
running from the Hakowie that Jane didn't
understand. The tone however, was unmistakable.
That and the slight pressure against Jane's head as
she was again guided to the hard dark brown
nipples.
Wrangler nuzzled at each breast for a while
longer, then began a journey downward. A light
film of saliva marked the trail of her tongue as it
moved down Singing Deer's stomach and across her
belly button. Lower she went, nibbling her way to
the girl's womanhood.
Reaching the now thoroughly saturated
patch, Jane took a moment to relish the aroma. An
aroma she hadn't savored for a long time. She
kissed each thigh, again and again, before moving on
to her prize.
It began as a flicker. Then a touch. Finally a
long loving caress. She could feel Singing Deer's
body react to each stroke as she ran her tongue
across her clit over and over.
Singing Deer began to buckle and spasm as
Jane increased the intensity of her tongue's attack.
She slid her free hand down between her own legs
and slid first one, then two and finally three fingers
within herself. She quickly matched the tempo of her
fingers to that of her tongue.
Sweat ran down the Indian's body as she
shook with each new ecstatic jolt. She could feel
the rising crest within her and knew that her first
orgasm at the hands of another was near.
Wrangler darted her tongue in and out of
Singing Deer's tunnel of love, causing the waves of
pleasure cascading up and down the younger girl's
body to double. The harder Jane moved her tongue,
the faster the waves repeated
Faster and faster the waves washed over
Singing Deer, each bringing her closer to an
explosion . Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried
to delay the fire within her so that she could enjoy
each second.
With a yell, the Hakowie maiden climaxed
as she had never done by her own hand. Her small
body shook for endless seconds as she took in
every aspect of her rapture.
Jane followed with her own orgasm
seconds later as her fingers covered with her
wetness. A much softer cry on her lips.
Both women collapsed to the ground,
entangled in each others arms. Silently they laid
there, caressing and kissing each other's body.
Time passed slowly as the rays of the sun
faded on the horizon. The silver moon replaced
the golden sun in the sky and a chill appeared in
the air.
Singing Deer built a fire and Jane produced
a couple of blankets from her saddle roll.
Together, they huddled naked beneath the
blankets, keeping each other warm.
The spend the night talking and making
love once more. This time Singing Deer brought
the same pleasure to Jane that Jane had brought
her.
By early morning when Jane dropped her
newfound lover off within a five minute walk to
her home, they had already made plans to meet
again in a week. In that time, Singing Deer planned
to teach the other women of her village what she
learned.
Wrangler Jane on the other hand had made a
promise to herself that one way or another, Wilton
was going to give her what she was due. Even if
she had to tie him down first to do it.
Keys: novel sex asstr sexstories
Fucking with a young barista
When this story all started, I had been visiting this particular Starbucks many times. However on one visit, I noticed an attractive young girl was behind the counter. It was immediately obvious that she had just starting, because the manager was the
..continue reading A wife's exhibitionist lifestyle
A while back, I sent you "Volume I" of my experiences.
In case you've forgotten, here's a copy:
I guess I've always been an exhibitionist. I can
remember the thrill I got in high school whenever I
realized that a boy was trying to look up my skir
..continue reading Blowjob lessons with Melissa
Last summer was the case, with nothing but me, my ex-wife, Petigec and Ági. My girlfriend was a good woman, he was a true peasant girl, so he was his father all day. So that was the big big dick, big dick peasant girl, at the age of fifteen when I w
..continue reading
Closet Lesbians
In silent anticipation, where sense of touch is
heightened and the aroma of sex permeates the room. The
feeling of skin against silken-skin, as she climbs atop
me. The feel of her slithering along my body, her breath
ragged at my ear.
Shaved, lo
..continue reading 3 way French kiss
The following is a story, and not even really a fantasy, although I might
enjoy some of the things described. There is very little if any basis in
reality for this story, and any resemblance to anyone is an accident.
You should ignore this story if
..continue reading Teacher Blackmailed
Hi, I am back with second part of the teacher aunty gets blackmailed fuck. In the last part you have read that i am now the principal of the school and was dealing with a groping of teacher by student case and how the student son of the trustee with
..continue reading