Lulabelle in the West Bk. 01

"Good Lord!" Gussie whispered. "Is she all right?"

Lula nodded and put her lips to Gussie's ear. "She let the rapture take her. She's lost in a beautiful dream."

Hetty lay there on top of Wesley for a good long while, luxuriating in the feel of his kissing mouth and softly licking tongue on her nether region. It was hard for her to end such a blissful coming together, but she knew she had to. The brothers had been watching, she knew it, but she hoped Gussie was still clueless about that part of the goings-on. She made her way to her feet, picked up her nightgown, and walked back behind the curtain.

Gussie watched her slip into her nightgown, looking at the dark patch of bushy hair between her sister's legs before it disappeared from view. Gussie wondered, why would a man want to put his mouth there? Having hair in one's mouth was the most unappealing thing she could imagine, but the room was silent again, and it wasn't the time to ask questions or to scold Hetty for being so reckless. Everyone's heart-rate gradually slowed, and sleep came to the lot of them.

—

Chapter 9

The morning didn't give the women any privacy to talk freely, so they remained mostly silent while they cooked a nice breakfast of eggs and ham. When everyone gathered at the table, Hetty sat down last. She looked at Wesley and a sudden heat flushed through her bloodstream. Her pretty face went from normal flesh color to pink to beet red in just a few seconds time. A flashback to the rapture had overcome her, and her whole body tingled and nearly trembled. Her breathing showed the signs of it, and it was all she could do to gather herself back in and hold things together. It was a powerful moment, and she wished she could sing the praises of it to her lover.

"We'll have a feast of trout tonight," she said, trying to get her mind on another track. "Boone, do you have all the supplies you need for your shoeing?"

"Yes, Father had the shop stocked nicely. There's plentiful iron, and some coal. I'll mix some wood with the coal to make it last longer. The anvil is a fine beast of a thing. It must have taken some work to bring something that heavy out here into the wilds."

"One of the hands was as big as a bear, and as strong as one," Hetty said. "Obediah Sykes is his name. I do hope he's well."

Lula flashed a smirking smile. "Just how big is he, Hetty?" she asked, wondering if he was the donkey-hung man Hetty had mentioned, the one with the large plums and the impressive horn. "Is he the one you spoke of the other day?"

"It may have been him," Hetty said, blushing again.

—

A little while later, after the fishing party had left, Boone and Gussie were alone at the homestead. Gussie made herself busy in the kitchen, making molasses cookies to serve with the nice lunch she was planning to make for Boone. She knew he liked sweet things, and so far the molasses had only been used to make brown bread. She was sure some cookies would make him smile.

Out in the blacksmith shop, Boone tried to remember the skills he'd learned as a youth. The forge fire glowed hot, a mixture of chunks of coal and hard oak. Boone placed a bar of iron in the fire and pumped the big bellows with the foot pedal; the fire glowed brighter and sounded like a hurricane wind. There were more sparks than Boone remembered. He recalled some advice told to him by the master smithy he'd worked for, about the care needed when mixing wood with coal. Just as he was thinking about it the bellows collapsed. The rope that controlled it had been nearly chewed through by mice, and the leather that made up the sides and formed the hinge was dry and rotten; the whole thing came apart, blowing a great whoosh of air through the hot fire, engulfing Boone in a cloud of acrid smoke and red-hot embers. Gussie heard him yell and she ran from the bunkhouse to the shop. She arrived to the sight of Boone scrambling out of his smoking, smoldering clothes.

"The boots! Help me with my boots!" he yelled, desperate to get his pants off before the smoldering canvas caught fire.

With Gussie's help he managed it, but his skin was pocked with red and in the worse spots burning hot embers stuck to him like stinging bees.

"We need to cool these burns!" She grabbed Boone's discarded shirt, took his hand and pulled him quickly toward the river. She splashed into the shallow water with him and pushed him down in it, submerging his body. The water was icy cold so she pulled him up again and she used his shirt to sponge cool water over his burns, as gently as she could.

"It's a good thing I was here," she said, her eyes showing her worry. "Your clothes would have caught fire."

She continued her gentle work, dipping the shirt in the clear water and daubing it on Boone's bare skin. She watched the water flow down his torso and the realization of just how naked he was seeped into her like the warmth of strong whiskey. Boone stood silently, his heart pounding, not from the calamity but from Gussie's nearness and her tender touch. Even with the cold water on him his inner heat was overwhelming. His cock plumped and lengthened, and it started to lift.

Gussie let it happen. She kept up her quiet work, hoping Boone wouldn't notice the pounding heart in her chest and her irregular breathing. He did notice, and it fueled his building desire. His cock grew fully long, and fully thick, and lifted to an angle that pointed nearly straight out in front of him.

"Ohhh my!" Gussie sighed, looking at it close-up. "How can it be this way? Aren't you in pain?"

"It's you Gussie. I feel no pain when you touch me."

Gussie had a look of pure amazement on her face when she took Boone's hard cock in her hand, encircling it with her fingers. She remembered what Lula had told her: feeling the hard heat of a man's horn brings forth a woman's tail-juice. Gussie could tell it was happening; she felt the tell-tale signs in her nether region — a moistening and a new kind of life in her tenderest flesh. But it wasn't just confined to her nether region; the new life in her flesh overtook every inch of her. She watched with a curious mind as her hand moved on Boone's big cock, back and forth movements, just as she's seen Hetty do in the dark. Boone moaned and his head tipped back and he looked at the sky. Gussie's attention was acute — the tiniest of sounds were audible to her, and her eyes took in everything, right down to the very texture of the skin of a handsome man's hardened cock. It felt so much heavier and warmer in her hand than she'd expected, and so much softer, even though it was solidly hard.

"We should put some lard on those burns," she said softly, with her hand still stroking the first cock she'd ever touched.

"Not yet, Gussie," Boone said. "Not yet."

His soft, breathy voice and his desire for the moment to continue made Gussie swoon. All reason disappeared from her mind, and her head and her mouth moved toward the tip and the foreskin of the big hammer in her hand. Boone moaned again when he saw her tender lips kiss it, and his moan was deep and earthy when he felt the warmth of her mouth envelop some of his hard cock's inches.

"Ohhh, Gussie," he sighed. "I've dreamed of this."

Gussie withdrew her mouth and looked up into Boone's eyes. "I know not how," she said, speaking words she thought she'd never get to say. "Will you teach me?"

Boone reached for her arm and pulled her up. She never let loose her grip on his hard cock when he held her head in his hands and kissed her. It wasn't Gussie's first kiss — that came long ago, when she was in her early twenties — but it was by far the best. She felt so buoyant and so alive, she wondered if she'd already been overtaken by the rapture Lula and Hetty had spoken of.

"Will the lard help the pain?" he asked, his face taut and uncomfortable looking.

"Oh my good Lord!" Gussie said, angry at herself for getting carried away and neglecting Boone's wounds. "Yes, come with me."

She led him by the hand to the bunkhouse and had him sit on his bed. She scurried over to the kitchen area and returned with a container of lard and a clean kitchen towel. Boone lay on his back, his naked body stretching the whole length of the bed. His cock had shrunk some, but it was still engorged with the hot blood of their first encounter. She let her eyes linger on him for a few seconds, the most perfect male specimen she could imagine.

"This isn't ideal, but it will do," she said. "We really should buy some proper first-aide supplies when someone goes to town."

She started dabbing lard on the red spots on Boone's skin. He watched her work, and his cock started to harden again.

"I'll be ready for cooking when you're done," he smiled. "Will the mice come and lick me tonight?"

Gussie looked mortified at the thought. "Good Lord, I hope not!"

"Will you?" he asked, with lust in his eyes.

Gussie didn't answer. She could barely draw a breath. Her eyes twinkled at the thought of a nighttime lick or two. She continued dabbing lard on him, working her way down his torso. "I should let you do this; your hands aren't injured."

Gussie's eyes showed her shyness as she neared his darkly hairy crotch and his big cock. It had hardened enough to lift from the space between his thighs, moving subtly with his heartbeat, and then, without warning, it swiveled around like the hand of a clock to a position on his muscular belly.

"Good Loordd!" Gussie said quietly, watching the life in it.

"I'm afraid I can't help my arousal with you so near."

"Is...it normal for it to move on its own? Are you...able to control it?"

Boone smiled at the look of amazement on Gussie's face. "To point it like a finger, you mean? No, nothing like that. I'm just aroused by the thought of what you said."

Gussie larded a few more spots. "What did I say?"

"You asked me to teach you. But now that the excitement of the moment has passed, maybe you've changed your mind."

Gussie smiled a smirking smile and shook her head. "I haven't. I'm not completely without knowledge. I know some of the words."

Boone smiled. "Do you? What words?"

She wrapped her fingers gently around Boone's hard cock and spoke in the sexiest voice that had ever emanated from her. "This is your hammer. Your pump handle. Your cock. Your horn. And this...," she said, touching and holding it for the first time, "...is your ball bag. Your plums."

Boone's smile, and his sparkling eyes, made Gussie swoon again. The warm, otherworldly softness of his ball bag made her want to fondle it, so she did. Boone's eyes closed and he moaned. The moment was powerful, a true realization of what her touch could do to a man. She put down the lard that was in her other hand, scooped up the big hard cock and put her mouth on it again, taking the first few inches in, tasting it against her tongue.

"Ohhh, Gussie," Boone sighed. "You've taken away my pain again."

The feel and taste of him in her mouth thrilled Gussie. She tried to remember how Hetty had mouthfucked Wesley, and slowly her head started the up and down movements Hetty had made. Boone moaned deeply, and Gussie did, too. She felt his body moving, matching her slow, sensual movements, and she felt the rush of the thrill of doing it. It was happening! A real mouthfuck with a happy man!

"Oh Gussie!" Boone moaned. His hips were moving more, with an unstoppable energy. "I can't help myself! Are you ready for me?"

Gussie nodded, her mouth still full of smoothly thrusting cock. She had a pretty good idea of what she'd said yes to — a man's spunk in her mouth, and a swallow, just like her older sister had done. It must be the way of the world, she thought, and I need to master it.

She held her head mostly still and let Boone's hips do the work, fucking her mouth with rhythmic upthrusts as deep as she'd let him go. And then it happened — a manly groan from Boone's open mouth and a gush of hot spunk from his cock, oozing out from Gussie's lips, running down the thrusting shaft, making everything slippery. It tasted unlike anything she'd ever known, with a comforting warmth in her mouth. Boone appeared to be in a state of bliss, so she was sure she'd done something right. She swallowed what hadn't leaked past her lips, and then, out of an instinct to clean things up, she licked and mouthed the messy cock.

Boone was breathless. "You lied to me about needing instruction, Gussie."

"I didn't lie," she said. "You are my first."

Boone looked at the lust in her eyes, and at the slippery spunk on her lips. "Will you undress for me," he asked, "or is that too much for you?"

"I will," Gussie said. Her eyes twinkled and she smiled. "The bottom of my clothing is wet from the river. I'll use that as my excuse."

Boone smiled. "You'll catch your death if you don't get out of those things and let me warm you."

"I'll not let you watch me," she said. "Wait here."

"But I want to watch you. I want to help you."

"Help me undress?"

"Yes," Boone said. "Let me."

He got up off the bed and Gussie swooned again at the tall musculature of him, and at the raw, sticky hunk of cock hanging between his thighs. She stood in front of him and turned her back, and Boone started to unfasten her dress. When he lifted it off over her head her skin erupted in tingles. She was still covered in many layers, but a man had never seen her like that, in her undergarments, at least as far as she knew. Boone removed them one at a time, unlacing, untying, unbuttoning, until just three pieces were left and the rest were piled on Wesley's bed. Bodice and bloomers still covered her, with breeches underneath, the final defenses of her privates.

Boone knew she was nervous, so he paused the undressing and embraced her from behind. He could feel her womanly curves through the last bits of cotton fabric, and Gussie moaned.

She turned and kissed her naked man. Suddenly she wanted to be naked, too, and in just a few moments time she was. Stripped bare. Kissing a man. With his hard cock against her skin and his big, sandpaper-rough hands fondling every inch of her nakedness. The two of them melted onto the bed, Boone stretched out on his back, and with Hetty's teachings in mind, Gussie mounted him like a rider. Her plentiful tail-juice let Boone's big thick cock work its way into her without too much trouble, stinging her with quick, sharp pain when he broke through her hymen, and then thrilling her more and more as each inch filled her. When she started to move like her sister, fucking him properly, she felt euphoria the likes of which she'd never imagined. She rode, and she rode, and the euphoria continued to grow. It was pure magic and she felt like she was flying, and then her eyes started to flutter, and then they rolled back in her head, and then...the rapture overtook her.

Boone watched it happen. He had his hands on her waist, and his whole body moved fluidly as he fucked her from below. His hands slid up to her breasts while her mind was gone, and he held them when she came back to earth, pulling her down so he could suckle them, with his big cock still slithering in and out of her velvety insides. They say one's first time will never be forgotten. For Gussie, it felt like the beginning of a brand new life.

—

Outdoors, the day was a fine one — blue of sky and with the merest breath of a warm breeze. The good fishing holes and the warmer water for swimming were two miles or so downstream from the homestead, almost directly east. The fishermen and women headed there right after breakfast — Wesley and Elijah on their horses and Hetty and Lula driving the buckboard wagon that was loaded up on the back with the day's supplies. There were rolled up blankets from their beds; a basket filled with bread, cheese, dried fruit and a bottle of whiskey; four crude fishing poles; and a container of big healthy crickets and wriggling nightcrawlers gathered the night before, to use as bait.

As soon as they arrived Hetty spread a blanket on the ground at the edge of the water and sat there with her pole in her hand and her line in the water, and she silently wondered how her sister was getting along. She knew there was a spark between Gussie and Boone; it had been obvious on quite a few occasions. She also knew Boone was a gentleman, but she secretly wished he wouldn't be one on that day, all alone with Gussie.

A hook baited with a cricket caught the first fish, soon after the fishing party had dropped their lines in the water. "I got one!" Hetty yelled.

"Drag it up slow, they like to fight," Wesley said.

He helped when it was close to the riverbank, pulling the line in by hand. The brightly colored yellowfin cutthroat trout flopped back and forth on the grass when it was landed.

"Nice one," he said. "I'll start a stringer and keep 'em in the water so they stay fresh."

Hetty smiled. "We're a good team," she said. "I haven't caught a big one since last summer."

Before Wesley could react she pulled him to her and kissed him. Their lips had been on other parts of each other's bodies, but it was their first kiss, and it was a long, lingering, romantic one. When it was over, Wesley didn't say anything.

"You look surprised," Hetty said. "Would you rather just fish today?"

"No! It's just..."

"Are you shy in front of Lula and your brother? They both know of our nightly fun."

Wesley looked surprised. "Lula knows?"

"Everyone knows," Lula yelled, from farther down the bank.

"Not Gussie," Wesley said, sure that the most religious one among them wouldn't be accepting of such a thing.

"Yes, Gussie too," Hetty said. "But don't tell her you know. Let's keep up the pretending for a while, until she gets used to things. You'd best string that fish, before it dies."

Wesley wasn't sure what to say, so he took care of the fish. It astonished him that everyone in the house knew of Hetty's dark-of-night visits to his bed. After the fish was back in the water, strung through the mouth and gill on a thin line of twine, he asked her about what she'd said. "When you say Gussie knows, what do you mean?"

"She watches. Just as your brothers do."

Wesley wanted to laugh. "You know? You know my brothers watch you and you do it anyway?"

Hetty smiled a shy, impish smile. "I like it, Wesley. It excites me."

Wesley couldn't believe that she'd do something as deeply unchristian as the over-and-under with people watching. With Gussie watching. Gussie, with her ever-present bible, and her neck-high dresses in the daytime, and her bloomers and cotton stockings under her long sleeved nightgown at night.

Hetty loved the look of confusion on his face, and she was more than ready to take things to the next level. Wesley watched her walk alongside the riverbank to where Lula was fishing. He saw the two of them speak for a moment, and then he watched Lula assist in the removal of Hetty's dress. It wasn't surprising, because they'd all planned to swim later on, but it seemed odd to see her dressing down to just her swimming clothes so early in the day. Lula, wearing nicely altered men's pants and a cincher with a camisole over it, helped Hetty strip down to a similar level, wearing just breeches, bloomers and cotton stockings on her legs, and nothing but a bodice on her top.

Elijah, fishing even farther downriver, was intrigued. When Hetty and Lula walked to the wagon to discard the unused clothing and re-bait their hooks, he wandered back, trying to act casual by asking about Hetty's first fish of the day.

"That looked like a mighty big trout," he said, eyeing Hetty's thinly clad breasts.

Wesley was there, too, both the young men drawn to the scantily clad woman as if they were hooked by a fishing line themselves.

Hetty couldn't help but notice their eyes taking her in. "You boys scrutinize me much to closely. I can tell you right now I do not stand up to comparison with Lula. My face is creased, my breasts hang lower and my waist will not be as small no matter how tightly my laces are pulled."