Emma: Passionate Bride

[This is a work of fiction. It is an unadulterated and unabashed attempt to tickle male fantasies, and as such, may not be entirely realistic. With the exception of some place geography and a few historical persons, all other places, events, and characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]

SPECIAL HISTORICAL NOTE:

Comencheria actually existed and the Comanche Indians vigorously defended their territory against any uninvited intruders, be they red, white, black, or any other color. After the Apache of the southwestern United States, Comanches were among the most fierce and brutal of warriors, especially against the invasion of the hated whites. The Comanche actions described in this story are a matter of historical record.

*****

I looked about in horror at the carnage going on around me. My twenty-four year old husband, Chris, was in the act of firing his rifle when he took two arrows in his chest and three in his back. He fell over, dead before he hit the ground. Sam, thirty-one years old, shot an Indian in the forehead with his rifle, scattering brains and pieces of skull in a gory, red spray. He took a tomahawk deep in the back of his head for his trouble, nearly splitting his skull in half and spilling gore out in a river. Sally, Sam's twenty-five year old wife, screaming in demented shrieks, was held in the fierce grip of two warriors while two more held me just as fiercely. I wasn't screaming, but I was sick with horror and shock. With the two men suddenly down and out in the short but fierce surprise attack, the fighting was all over.

Sally, still madly screaming, and I were forced to look on as our men were stripped, scalped, and brutally mutilated. Warriors began making deep, knife cuts in biceps and thighs, slit bellies wide open, and removed genitals which they then stuffed into the mouths of the bodies. Sally was still shrieking and wailing until a warrior smashed a rifle barrel across the side of her head face.

I stood starkly still and mute in even deeper fear and shock. We had been grabbed by surprise in the garden while our men worked near the barn. In our post party state, the results of the night before, Sally and I had failed to bring our Colts out with us, something we almost never forgot to keep within easy reach. Sam and Chris, obviously, had remembered their Winchesters, but had failed to notice our error.

The capture of Sally and me was so sudden and without any warning, that the presence of Colts on the ground twenty feet away would not have made any difference anyway. Those Colts were much too heavy to carry in our skirts while bending and hoeing in the garden. The Indians tied Sally and me to a fence rail and while they proceeded to ransack our cabins and belongings, I thought back over the events that brought me to this place and our present predicament. I had to do something, while we waited, to take my mind off worrying about what was in store for Sally and me.

I was nineteen and newly married, to the tune of four months and ten days. Chris Giles and his older brother Sam had built a double cabin with a dog-run between them, on their small land claim on the upper Brazos in West Texas. Sam and his wife had lived in one cabin and Chris in the other while they tried to build up their cattle holdings. Their starter herd was ten cows and eight calves. Sally had not joined Sam until the cabins had been completed. Chris had lived alone in his cabin until he returned to St. Louis for his bride, me.

Chris and I had not met until our wedding day. I was a mail order bride by the name of Emma Olson, from the south side of Chicago where I was born and raised. The train took me, as part of a large group of other mail order brides headed west for husbands, to St. Louis where Chris met me and we were married by a justice of the peace.

An hour later, Chris and I boarded a steamboat for the trip down the Mississippi on our honeymoon cruise to Vicksburg where we were planning to swap the boat for horses and ride to "the ranch" in West Texas--out in what Chris called, Comencheria.

"Well, "Chris said as we crossed the landing stage onto the boiler deck of the steamboat, "how does if feel to be Mrs. Chris Giles?"

"I don't know, it's all too new yet, but I can let you know in a little while."

"Now, Emma, just what do you mean by that little remark?" Chris asked, with a smirk.

"You may not know it yet, but you will soon find out. I am not the typical, shy, virginal acting young woman that is the expected behavior today, at least not in private. I have a very healthy need for sex and you better be able to satisfy that need!"

"Whoa!" cried Chris. "How you do talk!"

"Don't worry, Chris, I am still a virgin, even if I don't act virginal. However, carefully locked away in my room at home, I have had to satisfy myself with my fingers or vegetables for far too long. All I want to do right now is get to our cabin and, if you will pardon the expression from the mouth of a 'lady,' fuck your brains out! Mine too, while we're at it!"

"Such talk, as you say, from a lady! Well then, let's not keep the lady waiting," said Chris as he took my arm and led me up the forward grand staircase to the Hurricane Deck and our cabin, up near the bow. As the door slammed shut with the kick Chris gave it, I turned and grabbed Chris in a tight embrace. As we hugged each other tightly, my ample breasts were crushed into Chris's chest and I ground my pussy into the fast growing bulge in Chris' pants.

With an explosion of breathe, I managed to squeak out, "I told you I was not lady in private."

We both released a low growl of a moan and fell into a sloppy, wet, French kissing session. Chris finally broke our kiss and gurgled out, "Hold on Emma, let me get the door locked first!"

While he turned to lock the door, I started stripping off my clothes. I hated women's clothes of 1870's with a passion. I did not wear a white bridal gown for my wedding. I traveled in and was married in my dark blue skirt suit. Under the jacket was a long sleeved, frilly white blouse with a demure, high neck collar of lace. Under that was my white chemise that ended at mid thigh.

From the waist down were those voluminous bloomers that I so hated. Calf-length stockings inserted into black, high-top, button shoes completed the outfit. Oh yes, I couldn't forget the damned silly hat I had to also wear or the gloves. None-the-less, I had the jacket, blouse, and skirt off by the time Chris turned around to look at me.

"Wow," he said, "You sure are in a hurry, aren't you!"

"Yes, I am, for a real man and what he carries between his legs, so help me get these damned shoes unbuttoned and off, Chris."

He, slowly, sensuously, rolled down the stockings of both legs, but not before he removed my shoes and massaged his way up to the stocking tops. Once the shoes and stockings were off, I rather sexily and unabashedly eased the pantaloons down under my chemise and off, showing a lot of thigh and a hint of my pubic hair. I dangled the pantaloons in Chris's face before dropping them to the floor. All I had left was my chemise, I was now naked underneath it.

"Your turn," I said. "Let me help you play catch up and get your clothes off." But before we could get any of Chris' clothes off, a knock on the door startled both of us.

A voice announced, "Got your bags, sir, where do you want them?"

I backed out of the way, but remained standing barefoot in just my chemise and Chris opened the door. "Just put them on the the floor there by the wall," Chris said.

The young, teenage roustabout gave me quite an eyeballing and a really lecherous grin, but he quickly brought in our things.

"Like what you see, do you?" I asked, again unabashedly and with a grin. This time, it was a sickly grin I got from the kid when I called his bluffing leer. He did nod his head in the affirmative, however.

After all the luggage was stowed, Chris locked the door again and asked, "Now, where were we?" I quickly helped Chris get down to his faded red long johns.

"Long Johns in summer?"

"Yep, we western men, we all wear these long handles year round. No real cowboy would be caught dead without 'em!"

"And do these 'long handles' get their name from the very 'long handle' I see poking into the front of them, like on yours there?"

Chris actually turned red in the face and said, "Could be, but it is the sight of you and what we are about to do that has this 'handle' eager to work!"

"Well then, let's get that handle out and see what it looks like!"

I started to undo the buttons from the top, working my way down to the last ones over his now very large bulge or 'handle.' Before I opened those last two buttons, I grabbed that bulge with my left hand and squeezed! I don't know what made me such a slutty wanton with Chris, but I was not ashamed, embarrassed, or timid with him from the slam of the door. Momma would kill me! She was such a prude.

Chris let go with a very hoarse groan and said, "Oh, G-o-d!"

I ran my hand up and down the length of his "handle." It must have been a good eight inches or more and very thick. While Chris let out another low groan, I undid the remaining two buttons and let his big cock pop out and bob free. The tip of it was oozing something already. By now you may well be asking, "How did a sweet young thing like me become so well versed in word and deed in matters sexual?"

And I would answer you with the story that my rather slutty school chum, Lettie, taught me the basics while we were in grammar school, in the little barn behind our house on the South side where father kept our milk cow. Those of us who grew up in the stockyard district, learned about "the facts of life" very early on in our life.

Lettie lived in the row-house across the alley out back. But later, while I worked as a secretary in a Chicago office (how I got there is another long story for another time), Lettie turned professional--a soiled dove in a Chicago brothel. Then, with fingers, mouth, and bananas or cucumbers, she really educated me on our Sunday afternoon outings in a secluded grove in the park. Such education also included the less refined terms for body parts and actions sexual.

Technically therefore, I was no longer a virgin, but I don't think Chris was going to know the difference. As I told you, I was not the typical, prude Victorian lady of the times. Then again, maybe far more Victorian ladies had secret desires and lusts such as mine that were kept as well hidden in public as mine had been, at least until now.

Anyway, back to Chris' bobbing cock. Let me desist with the euphemisms and call a spade, a spade, as Lettie taught me. I grabbed it with both hands and began to stroke it, slowly and teasingly. The precum began to run more heavily and provided lubrication for my actions. I could feel that big dick pulse and strain in my hands. Chris really did begin to moan in earnest then.

I dropped to my knees and lowered my mouth onto that velvety and veiny member, running my tongue around the helmet as I held the foreskin tightly down and back. After a little of this, I let the foreskin come forward, closing over not only the helmet, but my tongue as well.

I still kept my tongue moving and Chris just lost it! His dick swelled even more and pulsed harder, erupting suddenly with a half dozen squirts of his ropey cum into my mouth. I swallowed it all, gagging only once or twice, as I milked that cock as dry as a bone.

"Christ, Em, you got me to blow so fast, I hardly know what hit me! Jesus!"

"Well," I replied, "now as soon as we can get you hard again, you will last longer for the pleasure of us both. Let's get those long handles off altogether, they're just damn well in the way!"

I ripped the front of his long johns apart, scattering buttons right and left. I yanked the top down over his shoulders and pulled each arm out of the sleeves. With more care and a lick or two on his cock on the way, I pulled that suit down his legs and off his feet. Chris was all man and muscle as he stood there at last, naked as the day he was born with his once again erect cock bobbing and pulsing for more. He did not stand there long!

"Your turn now, Em," Chris said as he walked up to me and took me in his arms again. His hand soon began to play with my breasts and nipples, twisting and tweaking the nipples to the point of both pain and pleasure. His other hand went under the hem of my chemise and began to caress my inner thighs, ever so lightly. His hand would reach the top of one thigh, bypass my pussy, and rest momentarily on my mons. Then, the hand would slide over to and down the other thigh, only to start back up and back the way he had come.

"This thing is in the way," Chris said, as he quickly bent down and, with both hands, zipped my chemise up and over my head to let it drop onto the floor. Now I was as naked as he. My pussy juice was quite visibly dribbling out of my slit and onto my inner thighs. Chris noticed!

Chris began to growl as he leaned down and started kissing me on the neck, jaw, and about my ear. He kissed his way down to the creamy valley between my generous breasts where he licked and nuzzled before turning to mouth my large aureole and nipples, first one and then the other.

I could no longer stand the waiting for his cock. I grabbed his hard dick and pulled him to the bunk, turning to tip him backward onto the hard mass that passed for a mattress. I mounted him and poised myself above his skyward pointing hardness. My pussy was dripping with moisture, so I had little trouble sinking straight down onto his cock, passing his cock through the remnants of my long lost maidenhead on the way with a twinge of pain that quickly turned to pleasure as I bottomed out on his pubic bone and belly.

I rode my new husband like no cowgirl he had ever known, rising on my knees until his helmet was barely inside me and then plunging swiftly back down until he was again balls deep into me. This was my first real cock and I intended to get every bit of pleasure out of it I could, even if it killed me, or him!

I had waited way too long for this pleasure. Chris was bucking like a rodeo bronc, but I managed to stay on. Since he had already come once, some time passed before I felt his cock stiffen and swell in anticipation of blowing again.

"Use your finger on my slit right above your cock," I cried. Chris did and in so doing, found my clit and rubbed hard. He suddenly erupted in orgasm and I followed right behind, rolling through a cascade of multiple orgasms for a couple of minutes, something that had never happened to me before in my masturbation sessions.

Chris stayed hard for quite some time before his cock finally softened enough to drop out of my pussy with a loud, sucking pop. I lay on top of him, ample breasts crushed between us. We spent all but fifteen minutes of that twelve hour boat trip to Vicksburg right there, in that bed, fucking and sleeping, sleeping and fucking. We simply could not get enough of each other.

After debarking at Vicksburg and crossing the river on a ferry, we purchased horses and needfuls for the trip to Texas. We spent the next several weeks, actually over a month, fucking our way across country. We rode hard, horses that is, during the day anyway, and each other at night. We didn't exactly live on love, but close to it.

We did have to be careful of predators, both two legged and four legged, at night and so slept well away from our camp site and fire embers. We did so with, almost literally, one eye open after we were done fucking. God, between long days in the saddle on the trail and then Chris in the saddle at night with his stiff cock, I was sore as hell and short on sleep.

But, eventually, we did reach Texas and then, finally, "The Ranch" somewhere west on the upper Brazos. By then, I had gotten over some of the soreness, but still had a little trouble walking.

Introductions were made all around the day we arrived and Chris and I settled into his cabin. We had several months of bliss and hard work. It was a night in October, well into the time of the "Comanche Moon," which should have made us cautious, but didn't, when we decided to celebrate our successes to date, including the fact that we had experienced no Indian troubles as yet.

This was the party last night, held in our cabin for the four of us. We all got pretty darned tipsy on the home squeezings Sam had made and aged over the couple of years he and Chris had been living there, so tipsy that we ended up in an orgy of sex.

Sally and I had often discussed what it would be like to be with the "other brother" as a sex partner. In our tipsy state last night, I winked at Sally and she winked back. We immediately began to flirt with each other's spouse.

Sally and Chris were very quickly naked on the bed, fucking away like rabbits. Chris was not used to heavy drinking and was not really aware of much, but he did have one thing on his mind as he kept saying to Sally, "Ohhhh EM-M-M-M-M! Y-y-o-our bo-o-o-bs got big-b-ig-bigger!" Sally did not answer, she just kept riding Chris harder and harder, like a true cowgirl!

Meanwhile, Sam and I were naked on the buffalo robe in front of the fireplace. Sam was shoving it to me from behind like a stud stallion on a mare in heat, as if there would be no tomorrow. How Prophetic! Unlike Chris, Sam still knew what he was about and who with--and he was enjoying himself immensely.

My own orgasm was building as I clearly heard Chris and Sally orgasming on the bed. Sam must have heard it also because I felt his cock expand and throb just before he shot a load of cream deep into my pussy. That pushed me over the top and I squirted my release all over Sam's cock and our combined cum began overflowing around his cock to to smear our bodies at the point of joining and then run down my thighs onto the robe.

The silence in the cabin was deafening while the four of us just remained still, savoring our new found pleasures and trying to breathe again. At length, Chris and Sally ambled over to the fire by Sam and I with Chris now mostly aware of what was happening.

The boys were clearly "down" for the time being and I began to eye Sally's blonde bush with growing lust. I noticed that lust was also creeping into her gazes directed my way. It was but moments before we were each mouth to crotch, going after each other's pussies with a gusto! Quiet, timid Sally, except apparently, in the bedroom!

The boys began to get hard again, watching Sally and I go at it. Shortly, both of them were jacking off over top of us so that when Sally and I orgasmed in close succession, Sam and Chris shot their second load of cock cream all over Sally and me.

Sally and I conferred for a moment and then I said, "Ok, boys, we are going to help you guys get up and stiff again. Sally and I have a new plan."

So Sally stayed with Chris and began to suck his dick while I concentrated sucking on Sam until both guys sported huge erections again.

"Now," I ordered, "Chris, on your back on the buffalo robe. Sam, when I climb on Chris and sink my pussy on his big dick, you put your stiff one in my ass."

This one was a pure animal fuck to satisfy pure lust. Since both Sam and Chris had blown several loads already, they now seemed to last for ever and ever. But, eventually, one, two, three, we all climaxed in order: Sam in my ass first, that pushed me over second, followed almost immediately by Chris, squirting more cock cream into my pussy, though not much.

"But what about me?" wailed Sally!

So, after some rest, Sally and I went back to work on Sam and Chris in order for Sally to have her turn at a double penetration. I could tell the experience was not as good for Sally as it had been for me. Neither Sam nor Chris could get really rock hard by now.