milkmaiden38
Literotica Guru
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- Aug 1, 2011
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The Lustful Seven
The dozen men sprawled comfortably in back-tilted chairs against the side of the Circle Y ranch house. They were rough men, tanned, weathered faces and eyes filled with distrust and hate. Their slicked hair was still damp, having washed their faces after a day of hard work.
The foreman, the roughest of them all, was named “Cheating” Barklee Newall, spoke “I'm going to that jerk-water town and fuck me some fresh cunt? Are any of you boys game to come along?"
“Cheating… you been banned from that place by the sheriff.” One of the other men pointed out. He was a tall, dark man. His expression was sinister and he was egging “Cheating” Barklee Newall to break the ban.
Cheating Barklee pulls out his 6 shooters, “fuck the sheriff” He grumbled placing the gun back in his holster.
“I’m in” The tall dark man said. All of the other men agreed as well. Cheating Barklee had a job, but he did not have more than two-bits between himself and starvation. But that had never stopped him from getting a girl from the whore house. He grabbed his hat (a black Stetson) and headed towards his horse. He jumped up on his ornate saddle with the hand carved leather as he grabbed the horse’s reins.
He was off riding along the dusty road toward the small town that served the simple needs of that frontier community with its general store, its restaurant, its Chinese laundry, blacksmith shop, hotel, newspaper office and whorehouse/saloon. Coppertown was its name. It was small, but it was critical for the region. Providing supplies for miners, ranchers, and the small logging operation. It was on a railroad spur, so goods could be moved out easily.
There was a desert wind blowing that evening. The locals called it “viento del diablo” or the devil’s wind. A wind that comes down through the mountain passes and curls your hair and makes your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like this everyone drinks booze, and everyone ends up in fights. The Ladies of the whorehouse get ready to defend themselves on nights like this… as anything can happen.
“Cheating” Barklee Newall and his crew of 11 men arrived at the The Broken Rabbit whorehouse. From the outside the place looked like an expensive manor, cheerful and friendly. Large stones and hard wooden beams made up most of the building's outer structure. Curtained windows blocked any view of actives inside the many bedrooms.
As “Cheating” Barklee entered The Broken Rabbit through the thick, wooden door, he was welcomed by whispers from customers and whores. He also noted the scent of lilac in the air. The bartender saw him and frowned.
“Barklee… Sheriff told you to stay away from here.” The bartender said as he reached for his gun under the bar.
Barklee pulled his gun and pointed it at the man. “Don’t or I’ll shoot you where you stand.” Barklee warned. The bartender brought his hand up where everyone could see them.
“Whiskey and Pussy for all my boys and we ain’t paying” Barklee stated firmly.
“Yes, Mr. Newall” The bartender said as he worked to fill the drink order.
Sheriff Joel Webb entered The Broken Rabbit a few minutes later. A customer of the bar had rushed over to get him as soon as Barklee and his gang had shown up. The Sheriff paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light inside the bar.
The older white haired Sheriff surveyed the occupants of the room. There wasn’t very many people in the bar; a couple grizzled miners; a few loggers, and Cheating” Barklee Newall and his crew of 11 men.
“Barklee, I told you never to set foot in this place again after you cut that young girl’s face. Now git… GIT OUT OF HERE!” The Sheriff ordered firmly.
The Broken Rabbit was as cheerful inside as it was on the outside. Rounded, wooden beams support the upper floor. But the cheerfulness left the room as the Sheriff confronted Barklee.
Barklee was not going to allow the old Sheriff to tell him what to do. He decided to do something unexpected. He pulled out his gun and turned to face the sheriff in one quick and smooth move. Then he fired his gun striking the Sheriff right in the heart and killing him. Barklee was shocked; he was just trying to scare off the old man. But Barklee was a quick thinker “Don’t tell me what to do! I work for the man that owes and runs this town!” he said to the dying Sheriff.
Madam Velba Geller owned and managed The Broken Rabbit. She had been heading down the stairs from the upper floor to throw Barklee out of the saloon when she heard the shot. She ran down the steps, her huge bosom shaking as she entered the saloon, both her guns out and pointed at Barklee “GET OUT NOW!!” She yelled.
Barklee looked at his men. As he did the Bartender pulled out his shotgun and aimed at them too. “Let’s go… I’m not in the mood to fuck anymore” Barklee said and walked out of the bar. Velba ran to the Sheriff.
“Joel… its bad … Joel” Velba said trying awaken the man.
“I…deputize you… Velba… you are now the law in this town” Sheriff Joel gasped as he pulled the star from his chest and handed it to Velba. Then he was still.
That was five days ago.
The dozen men sprawled comfortably in back-tilted chairs against the side of the Circle Y ranch house. They were rough men, tanned, weathered faces and eyes filled with distrust and hate. Their slicked hair was still damp, having washed their faces after a day of hard work.
The foreman, the roughest of them all, was named “Cheating” Barklee Newall, spoke “I'm going to that jerk-water town and fuck me some fresh cunt? Are any of you boys game to come along?"
“Cheating… you been banned from that place by the sheriff.” One of the other men pointed out. He was a tall, dark man. His expression was sinister and he was egging “Cheating” Barklee Newall to break the ban.
Cheating Barklee pulls out his 6 shooters, “fuck the sheriff” He grumbled placing the gun back in his holster.
“I’m in” The tall dark man said. All of the other men agreed as well. Cheating Barklee had a job, but he did not have more than two-bits between himself and starvation. But that had never stopped him from getting a girl from the whore house. He grabbed his hat (a black Stetson) and headed towards his horse. He jumped up on his ornate saddle with the hand carved leather as he grabbed the horse’s reins.
He was off riding along the dusty road toward the small town that served the simple needs of that frontier community with its general store, its restaurant, its Chinese laundry, blacksmith shop, hotel, newspaper office and whorehouse/saloon. Coppertown was its name. It was small, but it was critical for the region. Providing supplies for miners, ranchers, and the small logging operation. It was on a railroad spur, so goods could be moved out easily.
There was a desert wind blowing that evening. The locals called it “viento del diablo” or the devil’s wind. A wind that comes down through the mountain passes and curls your hair and makes your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like this everyone drinks booze, and everyone ends up in fights. The Ladies of the whorehouse get ready to defend themselves on nights like this… as anything can happen.
“Cheating” Barklee Newall and his crew of 11 men arrived at the The Broken Rabbit whorehouse. From the outside the place looked like an expensive manor, cheerful and friendly. Large stones and hard wooden beams made up most of the building's outer structure. Curtained windows blocked any view of actives inside the many bedrooms.
As “Cheating” Barklee entered The Broken Rabbit through the thick, wooden door, he was welcomed by whispers from customers and whores. He also noted the scent of lilac in the air. The bartender saw him and frowned.
“Barklee… Sheriff told you to stay away from here.” The bartender said as he reached for his gun under the bar.
Barklee pulled his gun and pointed it at the man. “Don’t or I’ll shoot you where you stand.” Barklee warned. The bartender brought his hand up where everyone could see them.
“Whiskey and Pussy for all my boys and we ain’t paying” Barklee stated firmly.
“Yes, Mr. Newall” The bartender said as he worked to fill the drink order.
Sheriff Joel Webb entered The Broken Rabbit a few minutes later. A customer of the bar had rushed over to get him as soon as Barklee and his gang had shown up. The Sheriff paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light inside the bar.
The older white haired Sheriff surveyed the occupants of the room. There wasn’t very many people in the bar; a couple grizzled miners; a few loggers, and Cheating” Barklee Newall and his crew of 11 men.
“Barklee, I told you never to set foot in this place again after you cut that young girl’s face. Now git… GIT OUT OF HERE!” The Sheriff ordered firmly.
The Broken Rabbit was as cheerful inside as it was on the outside. Rounded, wooden beams support the upper floor. But the cheerfulness left the room as the Sheriff confronted Barklee.
Barklee was not going to allow the old Sheriff to tell him what to do. He decided to do something unexpected. He pulled out his gun and turned to face the sheriff in one quick and smooth move. Then he fired his gun striking the Sheriff right in the heart and killing him. Barklee was shocked; he was just trying to scare off the old man. But Barklee was a quick thinker “Don’t tell me what to do! I work for the man that owes and runs this town!” he said to the dying Sheriff.
Madam Velba Geller owned and managed The Broken Rabbit. She had been heading down the stairs from the upper floor to throw Barklee out of the saloon when she heard the shot. She ran down the steps, her huge bosom shaking as she entered the saloon, both her guns out and pointed at Barklee “GET OUT NOW!!” She yelled.
Barklee looked at his men. As he did the Bartender pulled out his shotgun and aimed at them too. “Let’s go… I’m not in the mood to fuck anymore” Barklee said and walked out of the bar. Velba ran to the Sheriff.
“Joel… its bad … Joel” Velba said trying awaken the man.
“I…deputize you… Velba… you are now the law in this town” Sheriff Joel gasped as he pulled the star from his chest and handed it to Velba. Then he was still.
That was five days ago.