Beyond The River

byJimBob44©

"Before we get to Great Oak, might be best you put you a dress on," Richard said as the noon sun beat down hotly.

Virginia rode for a few moments. She glanced down at her own cleavage. Then she looked at the two lovers astride their mount.

"Will Seth be putting on his own duds?" she asked.

I shall remain as I am," Seth said before Richard could respond.

"Both of y'all need be wearing dresses we get to Great Oak," Richard decreed.

With some reluctance, Virginia pulled to the side of the trail. With a sigh, she pulled a dress out of one of the saddlebags and swung out of the saddle.

She crouched down behind some scrub and wiggled and jiggled out of the trousers and blouse. Then she pulled her dress on.

"Oh, now this is just not right," Virginia complained when she again mounted her horse.

The first small house the happened upon pointed to the distance when they asked for Mr. Young. They could see the top of a large house.

"See that smoke there?" the man said. "That's Mr. Young's. Can't miss it; Got them big red door, big as day."

Mr. Young might be as fine a man as any would hope to meet, but Mr. Charmer neglected to mention that the man was infirmed. Mr. Young sat in a chair mounted on two large wheels. A Negro servant would stand at the rear of the chair, tilt it back and roll it on the two wheels. Then the servant would set it down and the man would sit.

Virginia smiled sweetly as she met her betrothed and kissed him on his whiskered cheek.

"And may I present my sister, Cynthia, and her husband Richard Aucliffe?" Virginia said.

"Sister? I could have sworn Henry wrote that, never the mind, hello," Mr. Young said and extended a withered old hand.

"Pleasure is mine, sir," Cynthia said.

"Sir," Richard agreed, shaking the skeletal hand.

Over the evening meal, Richard and Mr. Young discussed the area, the local inhabitants, any commerce around.

"Abigail shall show y'all to your quarters," Mr. Young said after he and Richard had enjoyed a cigar and nearly two thirds a bottle of whiskey.

Alcohol caused Richard's erection to be weak, but his desire was strong. Cynthia cooed and giggled as her man pleasured her with his mouth, swallowed all of her semen.

Mr. Young seemed to be no worse for a night of heavy drinking as he greeted his guests in the morning. After their breakfast, Mr. Young and Richard sat out on the veranda of Young House.

"Those trees?" Mr. Young pointed north. If you go beyond those oaks all the way to the base of Lowricge Hill? This is all the land that I own here."

He shook his head sadly.

"There is not much that I can do with that land now, though," the man said, indicating his chair.

"How did you come to be in that chair?" Richard asked.

"Damned horse rolled on me," Mr. Young said bitterly.

He then smiled an almost demonic smile.

"Paid him back tenfold," Mr. Young said. "One bullet, between its blasted eyes."

"Ah," Richard nodded somberly.

He did think it a bit harsh, to kill an animal for doing what an animal was wont to do. He wondered what fate he and Cynthia would be leaving Virginia to contend with. Henry Charmers had told Virginia that Mr. Young was 'as fine a man as you would hope to meet' but clearly, the fall from the horse had addled the man's thinking.

Richard now regretted presenting the Confederacy Captain's sword to Mr. Young.

The wedding ceremony was performed on the veranda. A Baptist minister rode out with his dour looking wife; she played the piano and screeched and warbled hymns during the quite long ceremony. Virginia stood, looking quite proper in long white gown and looking quite uncomfortable in the blazing heat of the day. Mr. Young's lawyer stood in as Mr. Young's groomsman. The man made Richard somewhat uneasy, the way his eyes would never traverse above Virginia's cleavage.

As part of his wedding gift to his beautiful young bride, Mr. Young bequeathed the parcel of land between oak and hill. Virginia in turn gave that land to Richard and Cynthia Oakleaf.

The lawyer, Mr. Joshua McClelland, spelled Aucliffe phonetically. Aucliffe sounded like Oakleaf to him. And Richard, never having learned to read, did not know to correct the man's spelling.

Richard and Cynthia built a home to rival the Great Oak homestead and hired two Negro servants to help Cynthia keep the home clean. Those two servants learned that the jar of liniment was to remain on Master Oakleaf's bedside table, was not to be disturbed.

On the land itself, Richard planted corn and other grains. Then he harvested the grain. Some he sold to neighbors, some he fed to his cattle, and some he turned into fine whiskey which he stored in oak barrels.

Within two years' time, Oakleaf Whiskey came to be known as some of the finest quality whiskey around.

"Secret's in them barrels," Richard claimed. "That, and I only use the water running after the first spring thaw."

"And he makes me kiss each barrel before he seals it," Cynthia would tell people, looking up with loving eyes at her strong man.

"Well then! That's why they so sweet!" more than one drunkard would declare.

Cynthia would giggle, coloring slightly at their praise. And her man would drape an arm around her slim waist and agree; her kisses was what made his whiskey some of the sweetest and smoothest around.

When it was Brassy's time to go to pasture, never to be saddled again, Richard purchased another large draft horse. The servants did think it a little peculiar that the jar of liniment was the first item packed into the large saddlebag, and did wonder why the master and mistress only rode the one horse any time they went to the town of Great Oak.

"Shure they could gets them two horses," Mabel whispered to Martha.

"Or gets them a buggy," Martha agreed.

The two colored girls did think it cute, though. The master would kiss his wife, then hoist her up into the saddle, her bare legs visible as she hefted the hem of her skirt. Then he would swing himself into the saddle and pull her tight to him.

"Let us ride, my darling," Cynthia would coo and they would trot south.

As soon as the house was no longer visible, Cynthia would lean over the large pommel and heft her dress to her waist. Richard would reach into the saddle bag, retrieve the jar of liniment and anoint his cock liberally.

The first stroke of his large, thick manhood into Cynthia's anus would always create a grunt and gasp of pleasure. Then, the horse's steady cantering would create the swivel and sway, the rocking to and fro.

For Richard, the sight of his blunt manhood spearing Cynthia's tight brown ring of flesh, the sight of her brown ring stretching to accommodate his girth never failed to excite him. The feeling of her warm flesh squeezing and rippling and milking the seed from his heavy sac never failed to delight him.

For Cynthia, each and every time her loving husband battered his way into her, it never failed to produce the most delicious of pain within her. He was so large, so thick as he forced his way into her small body. Then, when he was fully imbedded within her, the sweetest of warmth would spill throughout her body.

"Oh my love, oh my darling," Cynthia would cry out as she felt her husband's seed flooding into her entrails.

"I do love you so," Richard would murmur once he had regained his breath.

Each trip into town did necessitate stopping by to see Mr. Young and his young, beautiful wife. The man looked more sickly, more drawn each visit. But Virginia looked the picture of happiness and health.

She would always give a sniff of the air and ask Cynthia and Richard if she detected the scent of unguent? Then she would giggle as Richard and Cynthia would blush hotly.

Richard deduced that he was right to not trust the lawyer, Joshua McClelland. He also held no trust of the bank's manager. So Mr. Prejean, a former native of Louisiana, the Baton Rouge area, was Richard Aucliffe's attorney. And, with the assistance of Mr. Prejean and Mr. Aucliffe, Oakleaf Homestead Savings & Loan was established. Many left the Great Oak Bank, brought their business to the Oakleaf Savings & Loan. Oakleaf had a reputation for treating their clients with honesty and fairness. Each transaction was explained to the client, no shady deals were tolerated.

"And they gives, oh shoot, what that man call it? Interest! Every dollar I puts in? End of the year, I gets one dollar and two cents back; how about that?" was heard quite often at the Oakleaf Saloon.

And Richard's hand in the demise of business for Great Oak Bank brought his idyllic life to a close.

"You! You low down snake in the grass, stealing all my business!" a drunken Joshua McClelland slurred as he staggered out of Tilly's Saloon.

Richard and Cynthia were in Great Oak, buying some bolts of cloth for her to make new curtains for Oakleaf Manor. Big Brassy was tied to the hitching post outside of the mercantile and Richard was assisting his love down from the beast's back.

"You, you, with your sneaky dealings," Joshua snarled and reached for his gun.

"No!" Cynthia screamed and leapt in front of her Richard.

The bullet, intended for Richard's heart, slammed into Cynthia's throat.

"Cynthia!" Richard screamed as she collapsed to the dusty path.

Joshua moved to squeeze off a second shot but the young man that had tied Big Brassy to the post had his Colt .45 in hand and shot the lawyer in his forehead. Richard gathered his dying Cynthia into his arms. He knelt in the dusty path, holding her tightly.

"My dear, sweet Cynthia, why?" he sobbed as she stared up to the heavens.

A few moments later, Bob McCall wobbled drunkenly from the Great Oak Funeral Parlor. The grizzled old man sneered and spat a string of tobacco in Joshua McClelland's direction. Then he gently put a hand on Richard's shoulder.

"Come, man, let me..." he said quietly.

"No, I shall carry my wife these last few steps," Richard said stoically.

"Yes, yes you shall," Bob agreed.

Inside of the parlor, Richard lay the dead body onto a table, kissed her lovely lips one last time, then collapsed onto the floor.

"Take all the time you need, my brother," Bob said gently.

When he was more composed, Richard selected an ornate box for Cynthia, then selected a beautiful gown. Bob also suggested a velvet ribbon, to mask the wound to her throat.

Then Bob moved to put the burial gown onto the corpse.

"That's a... Cynthia was a...?" Bob gasped when Cynthia's cock and balls came into view.

"...She was as fine a woman as any I've ever met," the man grimly declared and finished dressing her in her burial clothing.

Cynthia's funeral was attended by most in the small town of Great Oak. She and Richard were admired by most; he was a hardworking man, and an honest man. She was a loving, devoted wife and greeted all with grace and kindness and charity.

Joshua's funeral was attended by his widow and their two obese and ill-behaved daughters, and Mr. Young. Virginia did not attend the services for the killer of Cynthia. But Mr. Young saw her refusal to attend the funeral of his business associate and friend as a slight against him. Upon their return to Young House, he intended to have Leroy, his Negro manservant strip the willful wife and horse whip her.

He almost felt a stirring in his loins at the thought of seeing his young wife's body nude, suspended by her wrists from the great chandelier. He would be sure to instruct Leroy to strike her lovely large breasts a few times. The Negro was quite skilled with the whip.

He almost felt another stirring in his loins as he informed Rebecca McClelland that he was the one that held the property Joshua's home had been built on. He also owned the building Joshua's office had occupied.

"I am not a hard man, I am not an uncharitable man," Mr. Young said in his wispy voice. "You and your lovely daughters have a fortnight to vacate my property."

The buggy ride to Young House was a quiet one; the only sound being Virginia's occasional sniffle or slight sob. Mr. Young patted her hand gently as she twisted a linen handkerchief in her hands.

Then upon their arrival home, Mr. Young had Leroy wheel him into his library. Then the large doors were closed and Leroy stood, awaiting his next orders.

"That little strumpet believes she can disrespect me?" Mr. Young snarled, reedy voice shrill with anger. "She believes she can disobey me?"

"Sir?" Leroy asked, unsure of what Mr. Young was saying.

"She shall be stripped; I am the one that bought those fineries," Mr. Young pounded his bony fist on his desk in anger.

He fixed the servant with a glare.

"Then you shall whip her," he ordered. "Tie her to the chandelier and whip her. Twenty, no, no, it shall be thirty."

He rocked in his chair, wizened face a mask of rage.

"Never again will she disobey me," Mr. Young whispered hoarsely.

Then he looked at Leroy. He waved toward the great doors.

"What are you waiting for man?" he shrilled. "Go seek out Mrs. Young and do as I say."

"Sir? You wants me whipping Missus Young?" Leroy asked, large eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yes, you black fool, what have I been saying this whole time?" Mr. Young screamed.

"Sir? But she ain't done nothing wrong far as I cans see," Leroy protested.

"You blasted negro!" Mr. Young strangled. "When I say do something, you do what I tell you."

"Sir? But she your wife!" Leroy protested.

"All the more reason she should, she should, oh heavenly Father!" Mr. Young strangled, then clutched at his chest and slid from chair to floor.

Leroy's first instinct was to rush to the side of his employer. Then he forced himself to slowly amble to where the man lay on the floor. He could smell that the man had again soiled himself. That was of no concern to him; it was Beulah that had the task of tending to that need of their employer.

"Sir? Sir, is you all right?" Leroy asked, rolling the man onto his back.

The man gurgled and gasped something. His eyes were wide with fright.

"You scared sir? You scared you going Hell you a terrible sinner?" Leroy asked quietly, smiling.

Mr. Young gurgled again.

"Here, lets me help you. Old Leroy helps you," Leroy said calmly as he placed his large hand over the weak man's mouth and nose.

"Satan hisself be along soon greet you," Leroy said to the man as the man's eyes flitted to his broad black face.

Oakleaf Saloon and Tilly's Saloon saw a great boom in business on the day of Josiah Lyle Young's funeral. Toast after toast was made to the passing of the man. None were sorry to see the tyrant go.

Toast after toast was also made to the very comely Widow Young. Boasts were made among the men that they would be calling upon the young widow soon.

"Now what would that fine young lady want anything do with your sorry hide?" friends jostled one another.

"Especially when she could have one as me?" others would retort.

As the alcohol flowed, some tempers did rise. One or two did threaten to slap leather over a slight, real or imagined.

The four whores of Oakleaf Saloon and the three whores of Tilly's also saw a substantial jump in their business that funeral evening. Even Missus Tilly herself took a few men up the stairs of her establishment.

"I'll be walking bow legged for at least a week after this," Sarah said to Missus Tilly as the evening wore on.

"You walking bow legged now, Sarah," Missus Tilly pointed out.

Richard did attend the funeral of Josiah Young. He stood as the escort for the young widow. Neither shed a tear as the simple pine box was placed into the ground. With a nod from Virginia, the two grave diggers began throwing the dirt onto the box.

"Now, Missus Young, I was thinking," Bob McCall said. "For his headstone, shouldn't we say he was the founder of Great Oak?"

"We should say he was a son of a bitch, Mr. McCall," Virginia said solemnly. "But I supposed it would be proper to say what you suggest instead."

Bob stood, mouth agape, eyes bugging out at the language of the prim and proper looking widow. Then he swallowed a few times and nodded his head.

"Very good, Madame," he said.

As soon as night fell, the two grave diggers did dig up the corpse and did strip him of his boots and his thick wedding band. Then the two ghouls again covered the deceased.

A few months after the funerals, Richard was in his field, checking his crop of rye. He looked up as he heard a horse and rider approaching quickly.

The rider wore fine silk breeches and snug silk blouse and fine boots. The hat was slung low, hiding the rider's face.

Richard smiled, a rare thing for him since the passing of his sweet Cynthia. No matter how hard she tried, Virginia could not button those top two buttons over that magnificent chest of hers. Nor did the snug fit of the breeches conceal her womanly figure. But even had he been blind to all this, her nearly calf length blonde hair was impossible to miss.

She slowed and then reined the horse in when she saw Richard. She tipped the hat up and smiled.

"And what brings you out to Oakleaf Manor?" Richard asked as he assisted his sister in law from the saddle.

"I've not seen you since we buried Mr. Young," she stated.

"Crop's about ready come in," Richard explained.

They walked, her leading her horse. They talked, mostly about crops, about the heavy winter the Indians were forecasting. As they walked, Richard's eyes continually drifted to Virginia's expanse of fine breasts. He suspected that Virginia had her corset manipulated, forcing those hillocks up, stretching her blouse taut.

His gaze flickered to her pale blue eyes and she smiled. There was no blush on her face. She smiled wider when he did blush.

"I had a gentleman caller last evening," Virginia suddenly said.

"Oh?" Richard asked, feeling a constriction in his chest.

"Courtney Knudsen," Virginia said.

"Oh?" Richard said, fighting the annoyance in his voice.

"Asked if I would be open to courtship," Virginia said.

"And what did you say?" Richard asked, stopping still.

"Said I would be agreeable, for the right man," Virginia said, also stopping.

"And is Courtney Knudsen the right man?" Richard asked, feeling a building in his guts.

"No," Virginia said, smiling. "And I did say as much to Mr. Knudsen."

"And who is the right man? A woman such as yourself, you could have your pick," Richard said, waving his arm to emphasize his point.

"The right man is standing right in front of me, if he'll only say he loves me as much as I love him," Virginia said.

"I do," Richard said. "I truly do love you."

Bob McCall's son, Judge McCall performed the ceremony exactly one month after the passing of Josiah Young. Then Oakleaf Saloon served the bride and groom their wedding meal while one of the whores played the piano. Man after man came up and congratulated the happy couple.

Big Brassy objected to having several strings of tin cans tied to his tail and tried to kick the drunken celebrants that did affix the strings. But he did make quite the racket as bride and groom sat astride him for the journey to Oakleaf Manor.

"I can see why Cynthia would travel no other way," Virginia cooed as she felt her new husband's hands cradling her.

"Uh huh," Richard chuckled.

As they passed the fringe of oak trees that separated Young House property from Oakleaf Manor's properties, Richard gently but firmly pushed Virginia forward until she was nearly prone on the great beast's broad neck. She protested slightly when Richard hefted the hem of her bridal gown over her waist.

"Richard, what? What are you doing?" Virginia complained when he tore her pantaloons asunder.

"And this, my dear wife, is why we have the liniment in the saddle bag," Richard said and slipped a lubricated finger into his wife's bowels.

"Oh my goodness!" Virginia cried out.

Report Story

byJimBob44© 8 comments/ 18959 views/ 8 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

PreviousNext
4 Pages:1234

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar:

   Cancel