'Neath Western Skies, Ma!

His cock and libido reacted as you might expect. He scooted behind Rue's fabulous ass and slid his rejuvenated ramrod smoothly into her pussy for a few sincere strokes. Then out, and into Sue's welcoming mouth, and then back into Rue's dark wet gash, seated deep, groaning. He stroked in and out in the staggered ancient rhythm.

His balls bounced on Sue's coppery forehead. Sue's hand snaked across sweating body parts and squeezed Jack's metronoming scrotum. Yaahh! That was enough to set him off again. He felt his hot eruption fountaining into Rue's willing womb.

Rue gasped and groaned. Jack stayed deep inside, her cunt muscles locking him in with her own orgasms, squeezing his cock like a grasping hand, until he was fairly well milked.

Fairly well- but not totally. Sue pulled him from her sister's love tunnel, nestled between her quivering thighs, and slurped the mixed organic juices oozing out. Jack watched, fascinated. When Rue's pussy was licked clean, Sue rolled to him, took a deep breath and swallowed his still oh-so-wet and not-quite-soft cock. Swallowed, and sucked, and slurped, and milked every last steaming drop of seminal fluid and strength from Jack.

The extended agony-plus-ecstasy nearly drove Jack mad. Not that he minded.

=====

Jack often rode past the Tewa village the bottom of First Mesa. He often passed the horno (clay beehive oven) of the potter known to whites as Iris Nampayo. He was amused at her name, Num-pa-yu, Snake that does not bite. Sounds like a cock, he thought. But sometimes my snake does bite. Little baby bites. He chuckled.

Jack mostly spent his days prospecting the narrow mesas and mostly spent his nights entwined with the sisters. The nights were good but the days came up short - he found little worth digging for. Nobody yet knew that nearby pitchblende deposits would someday be valuable. Jack felt discouraged - except when he was balls- and tongue-deep inside Hopi pussies.

But a man cannot live by sex alone. Jack was ready to move on. Yes, tomorrow he would saddle up for the last time and leave Rue and Sue.

That was his plan. Plans can be diverted.

Jack and the sisters were spooned together before daybreak, Jack in the middle, just as he like. He woke fitfully with the usual morning piss-on; he carefully extracted himself from the warm flesh sandwich and headed out to water a cactus.

Slow hoof-beats approached. Jack was not worried - the Hopi were peaceful folk. Jack's piss-stream dwindled; he shook himself dry and turned around.

To face his sister Flora.

The lean buckskin-clad figure leapt from her horse. "Jack! Jack!" She grappled him desperately. "Jack! I heard you was up this way! Oh Jack! I'm so damn glad I found you!" She kissed him forcefully. "Jack! Word is out! You got to run again, you GOT to!"

Jack disentangled his naked form from his sister's form-fitting grasp.

"What? Is that damn Jake on his way here?"

"Jack, word is that some white man is living with some Hopi gals. Jake is real suspicious. He's organized to have a posse up this way tomorrow. You got to be long gone by then. Oh Jack, how will I ever find you again?"

Flora held him tighter and wailed louder.

Soft Hopi voices rose behind them. "What's this, Jack-o?" "Yes, and who is this?"

Jack did his best to introduce his sister to his naked lovers. Sue and Rue took one look at Flora and led her off to their bathing pool, stripping off her buckskins over her feeble protests. Jack followed.

The Hopi sisters saw to necessities first. Get Flora naked. Get her clean. Get her fed. Then get her well-loved.

The playroom was pretty well full of people. Sue was between Flora's thighs giving her a long, slow, thorough tongue-lashing, expertly probing the white woman's depths and savoring her Caucasian flavors. Jack and Rue were busy at Flora's breasts, carefully mouthing her flashing nipples. Flora's screams belied her weak attempts to push away her attackers.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh damn y'all, holy fuck..." Flora's voice trailed off.

Sue rolled away. Rue replaced her at Flora's temple mount. Rue carefully kissed around the paleface's quavering inner thighs and then approached her well-wetted pussy.

"Oh no, not again, oh fuck..."

Yes, again. Sue crawled over Flora's head and fed her a succulent boob while suckling her gently. Jack felt wolvish. He moved behind Rue and firmly slid his hot, hard hammer into her. His coyote moves slowed to the womens' inexorable tempo.

Four in a row, diagonal across the playroom's padded floor. Oh yeah!

Flora was almost screamed-out by now. But Jack was not going to let his sister get away without a final remembrance. Rue and Sue clung together while Jack moved onto Flora. Slow and easy - he kissed her feet, with extra kisses for the half-moon-shaped birthmark inside her right ankle, the same as the birthmark on his own ankle. It was a family artifact.

He kissed his way up her tired and shivering calves and reddened thighs. He kissed past her slit and naval and flat belly and rising breasts, and her throat throbbing like a sparrow's. He took the missionary position - thank you, Lord, for what we are about to receive. Oh fuck!

Both Flora and Jack were aware of the the Hopi sisters' pulsing 69-join beside them but they were more concerned with each other. Their faces almost touched. Their eyes locked together. They communicated on silent, ancient wavelengths; no words were needed or sufficient. They loved. Intensely. Endlessly. Oh, fuck.

Jack released his sister's ankles from his shoulders and fell aside. Flora was nearly unconscious; a sleepy smile revealed her satisfaction. Damn, Jack sure could blow huge wet loads! Jack felt pretty damn good too.

Silence reigned at the bathing pool as Jack and the three women cleansed each other. Soft stroking. Shy smiles. Sad smiles. Everybody knew.

Jack and Flora saddled-up quietly. Jack's pack burros were laden with provisions. Sue and Rue, dressed for the day, had wished them a physical farewell and gone to tend their little fields. The white siblings hugged and swung onto their mounts - Flora to return to the southwest, Jack to wander eastward again.

"I'll always love you," Flora whispered, and then spurred her horse to a gallop. She rode back to her life, to her ranch and her husband, the husband to whom she would give a wonderful child - just not his own.

Jack watched a cloud of dust rise behind her like a smoke signal. He flicked his reins and moved out.

=====

The prospector's life is rugged and wearing. Jack's appearance aged rapidly. Now only thirty-five, he looked like a man in his sixties - well-preserved, strong and lithe, yes, but silver-haired and wrinkled, sun-dried and worn.

Jack was prospecting along the Rio de las Animas, the River of Souls. There was silver up in Silverton - hell, the name said so! - and some gold and silver yielded to his pick and shovel and pan. Not a lot, but enough to fill some hefty little leather pouches with powdered wealth.

Jack was well satisfied with his few weeks' work. He concealed the evidence of his digging and panning - no use enriching some damn claim-jumper - and rode down to Durango on a beautiful autumn day.

He had important business in Durango - to bank his earnings, get a good bath and shave, get drunk, and get fucked. He had heard of this high-class whore Rosalyn, high-class enough to retain a luxury suite at the high-class Strater Hotel. If she was good enough for the mining magnates, she was good enough for him, too.

This is going well, Jack thought. He entered the Animas State Bank as a filthy prospector and left as a dirty man with a fat bankroll. His horse and burros went to a good stable. Jack went to a good Turkish Bath and then to a barber who did not try to cut his throat. Jack visited the haberdasher next door and was quickly fitted into a suitable suit - nothing fancy, just honest.

Despite all the cleanup and new duds, Jack looked exactly like who he was - a pike, a prospector, a rough man of the wild range stuck in a monkey-suit. A sucker. A horny sucker.

And thus he presented himself outside the whore Rosalyn's luxury suite. He had not got too drunk first, just enough hootch to clear his throat and get his juices flowing; not enough to impair him.

I am good and ready for a first-class fucking, he thought.

Rosalyn Englander (not her real last name but it sounded classy) had always been a beautiful woman. She grew up fast. Fucked at fourteen, a mother at fifteen and again at sixteen, she was more than just another pretty blonde. She had ambitions. She left her children behind when they were nine and ten years old, left them in the country with her husband and her sister to raise, while she went off to make her name on the stage in New York City. Pike County would never see her again.

Being a New York actress meant fucking directors, producers, backers, the usual worms of show business. She quickly learned that she could make more money by performing in bed than on stage. And she performed well.

Rosalyn seemed to have a magic life. She could last all night long, even without help from drink and drugs, but she could also out-drink any man in any house. She tried various skin lotions but what she liked best was raw sperm rubbed into her flesh. The more sperm, the better.

"Now you boys have got to keep me young, y'hear? So I need y'all to do your best. Don't waste none of your jiz on the floor. Make sure I get it all."

Rosalyn was on her knees before a half-dozen naked bearded men sporting thick, glaring, road-apple-red hard-ons. She kept them hard with her sucking and stroking. One by one, they popped-off on her - splort! She wiped each splash into her flesh and moved on to the next man.

Maybe these jiz-shots made a difference; maybe not. Maybe it was her regular bicycling to keep her legs trim, and juggling Indian clubs and dainty little French bar-bells to tighten her upper body. But whatever the reason, Rosalyn did not age.

Her New York years had been rewarding but ultimately boring. She longed for new sights, new places. From New York to Cleveland, to Chicago, to Saint Louis, to Kansas City and Abilene, to Denver, and now out in the rich frontier town of Durango, she merely followed the breeze.

And she did not age. At twenty-five she looked twenty; at thirty, she looked twenty-one. Now she was fifty but easily passed as twenty-six.

Her skin was fresh. Her breasts were bouyant. Her pussy was tight. God gave me these gifts, whe thought, and I use them well. Praise the Lord Jehovah!

She did not get pregnant again, either. A witchy-woman had seen to that. Maybe the witchy-woman had something to do with her agelessness, too.

Rosalyn was pleased by the neat old country man standing inside her door. He had sufficient funds or her guard would not have admitted him. He was clean and close-shaved, did not stink of whiskey (he had been careful to sip clear aguardiente rum), and was most polite.

"Howdy, ma'am, Miz Rosalyn. I have heard much of you. I surely should like to make your acquaintance."

"How very kind of you, sir, but don't call me Shirley." (pause) "That was a joke, sir."

"Yes, ma'am. May I help you out of that bathtub, ma'am? And may I help with drying you?"

Rosalyn had already sudsed herself clean and had run warm rinsing water over her impressive body. Her servant girl had cleared away the bath fripperies and left her mistress in private with the latest client. Well-trained servants are such a blessing.

"Yes you may, sir," she said, raising a delicate hand to him. He carefully eased her upright and out of the tub. She gestured at a large fluffy towel.

"If you would, sir," she said, raising her arms over her head. Her freckled breasts were magnificent. Her hair's bright gold was obviously natural - the colors matched between her legs and atop her head. She dripped.

Jack wrapped the towel around her. She patted herself dry and wrapped the towel around her head like a turban.

Naked but for the head-wrapping, she waved him toward a tall stuffed chair.

"Please remove your coat and sit, sir, and we shall proceed."

Jack sat. She unwrapped her turban and threw the damp towel aside. She knelt before him and pulled off his boots, the left, then the right, and nodded with approval at his clean new stockings. She pulled those off. She reached for his belt and unbuckled it, then leaned forward to reach his shirt and unbutton that.

"Ma'am, I can-"

"Just you hush now and let me do everything for you," she purred, removing his bolo tie. Her bare breasts brushed against his bare chest. His shirt was gone next. She looked into his face. "Pick up your butt now."

He raised himself slightly. She had his trousers and drawers off in one smooth pull. Now she was kneeling between his legs with his excited penis before her.

She gave him a sniff. "Pretty good. Just a minute." A cloth in a bowl of warm water had him squeaky-clean in moments. She sniffed again. "Yes, real good." She took him into her mouth, then out again, and smacked her lips. "Damn good!" She swallowed him whole.

Rosalyn had learned deep-throating long ago. The skill stood her well.

Jack had been blown by women good and bad throughout his life, but never like this. Her tongue was magic! Her lips were angelic! Her fingers were diabolic! Lick and lap, stroke and squeeze, poke just right, not too much...

She had him on the verge a half-dozen times. Finally she said, "Enough of that! Let's adjourn to bed."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack groaned. He staggered uptight.

Oh fuck, the stimulation! He was half-mad by now, beyond self-control. He picked up the supple woman, threw himself down on his back on the bed, positioned Rosalyn (who was not struggling much) in a fine 69 pose, and chowed down.

She tasted of peaches.

Rosalyn gasped at the physical upset - and gasped again when Jack's long, experienced tongue slid up her slit and circled her clit. Sucking him in was totally a reflex motion. Oh fuck, his tongue felt good!

Jack knew how to pleasure a woman. He was naturally talented but the Hopi sisters had given him a superb post-graduate education in vaginal anatomy and general what-to-do. Firgers variously on the tight butt, and in and around the labia, and stroking nipples, and smoothing excited arms and legs, and massaging feet, and then moving back to the action.

And there was something especially exciting about this woman. Something beyond a good suck-and-fuck for good gold. She just felt... right!

Rosalyn had been poked by countless penises in all her openings. She had been well-licked by more than a few tongues of various genders and species, too. But never like this! Never with such finesse and skill. And never with such special chemistry. He just felt so... right!

Rosalyn screamed onto the cock deep in her mouth. She screamed, and again, and again. Oh my fucking god, it had never been like this before - never!

Jack felt his power over this woman. I can make her climax forever, he thought. He slurped further. She screamed again and let him head-fuck her.

Jack did not want to cum in her mouth. I paid for a good fuck, dammit, and I am going to GET me a good fuck, he thought. He rolled her over on the bed and switched around head-to-foot.

"You ready, miz Rosalyn, ma'am?" he asked. He did not wait for an answer. He pushed her legs apart and entered her smoothly.

Rosalyn was nearly beyond screaming. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh..." was about all her vocal cords could emit. But she had the strength to wrap her legs tightly around the back of the sex-maddened old prospector.

Jack had absorbed his post-grad training well. Short fast strokes; long slow strokes; more changes of pace. Leaning down to nibble nipples, then up to bite her throat, than a full lip-to-lip tongue-to-tongue mouth-lock. And all the while moving, moving, with her hips rising to meet his thrusts.

Their mouths were locked together. Jack came up for air. Their eyes locked together. They came together. Massively.

Rosalyn felt like Jack's cock would emerge from her nose. Jack felt like Rosalyn's leg-lock would crack some ribs. Neither worried much about that.

"Unh... ohh.. ungh.. ahh... ohh.."

Rosalyn was beyond screaming and Jack could not get beyond grunting. They groaned together. Loudly.

Jack barely managed to support himself on his elbows. Rosalyn did not mind being crushed. She kept her legs locked around his waist. She did not want him to leave her. Her vagina felt RIGHT with him inside.

But he did eventually leave, with his softened cock dropping out, with a massive wet spot on the sheet below them. And with a huge smile on his face.

"Hot damn, ma'am, pardon my French, but holy fuck, that was great!"

Rosalyn's voice was raw. "I've never had it like that before," she rasped.

"You are just really something, miz Rosalyn, ma'am," he said. He lay beside her. "And you're such a beautiful young thing." He kissed her arms and shoulders, and her breasts, one by one, and back again. He slid down and kissed her belly, and her mons, and her inner thighs, one by one. He kissed her knees and her strong calves. He kissed her ankle - and stopped. He stared. Then he kissed the half-moon birthmark.

"This here is right remarkable, ma'am," he said cautiously, sliding back up beside her. She hugged him tightly.

She glanced at her foot. "Yes, ain't it pretty? The only people I know have that birthmark are me and my two young'uns, they're grown now. You wouldn't believe I had grown children, now would you? I'm a lot older than I look and I've just been blessed, real blessed. But I haven't seen those two children for so long, not since I left home, left them with my sister." She wiped a tear from her eye. "I sure wonder how they've done."

"Would you mind telling me their names, ma'am?"

"My first was little Jackie, I was only fifteen then, and his sister Flora came a year later, bless her heart. Why are you so interested, sir?"

"Well, ma'em, me and my sister Flora have that same birthmark."

She stared at him. She scrunched down and examined his foot. She looked up. The old man and the young women stared at each other.

"Jackie? Baby?"

"Ma?"

=====

Yessiree, Jack James was a lucky little motherfucker. Imagine finding your long-lost Ma after all those years! And they felt so good together! Their lives would get very interesting.

Ain't it funny how these things work out?

THE END.

*****

Author's note: This story by Hypoxia, who is not fluent in Azteco-Ute languages, is copyright (c) 2015. Your constructive comments are welcome. If you like this, join the 1%ers and VOTE!