tagHumor & SatireThe McGuire Brother's Sister

The McGuire Brother's Sister

byEgmont Grigor©


A stranger came into town on a hot and windy day, just as drifters did in the Old West, well over 100 years ago.

"Howdy, stranger," greeted the bartender, the tops of her breasts showing above scooped low neck of her flimsy top from Celine's of Paris (Texas). The height of the bar concealed her bare belly and scruffy tennis shorts.

"Beer, or whisky?"

"A soda, thank you ma'am."

The bar fell silent, nothing could be heard but the, um, patter of tiny feet of cockroaches.

"That accent, young fellow," sniffed Hank Bellows, nursing a cold. "Is it Canadian? Canadian's are not welcome here as they steal our foreign wheat markets."

"No sir," said the young man respectfully. "Never been to Canada."

"Is it Australian? Aussies are not welcome here as they steal our women."

"No, sir. I'm from New Zealand."

"Oh, then that's all right. New Zealand, Switzerland, Austria – anyone from those tiny cheese-making places up there in the mountains pose no threat to us. We're plainspeople."

"Come and sit with us, son, bring your soda," said one of the bar prostitutes, a motherly woman. "Now, have you been enjoying yourself between the ample thighs of someone like me, lately?"

"No ma'am, I'm saving myself these past two years for Bridie McGuire."

The bar fell silent; the cockroaches fled.

Everyone jumped when Hank Bellows snorted to clear nostril blockages before speaking.

"Say that name again, son."

"Bridie McGuire. I'm sorry that you have a hearing deficiency."

The religiously knowlegeable in the saloon who'd already crossed themselves for the young man knowing he was bound for certain death at the hands of the McGuire brothers, crossed themselves again because his death was very much more imminent.

Hank Bellows pushed back his chair and stood up...and stood up...and stood up until all six foot eight of him was brushing the ceiling.

"Listen here, punk..."

"Excuse me, would you please desist in calling me names." " Why you insolent little foreign wheat germ," snarled Hank, sending a bunched fist straight between the eyes of the stranger. But those eyes were not were they were supposed to be. Slower only just less than the speed of light, the stranger had side-stepped, somersaulted over the card table, strode up behind Hank and with a powerful slam of the sole of his cowboy boot into Hank's ass, sent his attacker crashing into the solid wood bar.

The bar fell silent, and the cockroaches scampered back to watch the action.

The stranger helped Hank to his feet and dusted him off.

"Sorry sir, but according to Western Lore – that's spelled L-o-r-e – I'm obliged to defend myself otherwise forevermore I'll be known as the coward of the county."

"Quite right, son. I understand fully. Lucy, get this man another soda; it's on me."

"Son, allow me to introduce myself. I am Hank Bellows and I own most of this town including this saloon and thirty percent of all the wheat you see growing from horizon to horizon."

"Excuse me Hank," called a skinny fellow in a dark suit and bowler hat, he rushed up to Hank and whispered in his ear.

"Correction," said Hank. "Silas tells me we've finished harvesting – well then, I own thirty percent of the wheat-growing land you can see from horizon to horizon."

"Pleased to meet you Hank, I am Hal Court from Auckland."

"Oakland, San Francicso?"

"No, Auckland, New Zealand."

"Where's that."

"You head Down Under towards Australia but just before you get there you divert to the left a bit."

"That's Antarctica?"

"Don't go quite that far south, Hank."

"Why do you choose to die early, Hal?"

"I don't. It's still another fifty-three years before I take possession of my pre-booked burial site."

"No, I mean going after the McGuire sister. You know the score, don't you?"

"That she's a virgin – I do."

"No, that twenty-three young fellows have come courting the irresistible Miss Bridie McGuire and those same twenty-three unsuccessful suitors now rest in our Boot Hill."

"Golly, does she have something contagious?"

"Not her, my son. It's her five brothers – Tom, Joe, Bill, Luke and Little Joe. They want their sister to live a pure life, at home. So anyone coming calling to take her away from them gets stabbed, shot, buried alive, garrotted, poisoned, quartered – and that's only some of the more acceptable ways of eliminating vermin in these parts.

"Why haven't the McGuire Brothers being jailed for the murders?"

"No evidence, my son. The boys give each other an alibi and remove all evidence."

One of the gamblers stretched, belched and asked: "How did you find out about Miss McGuire when you live in Nowhere?"

"New Zealand?"

"Is there a difference?"

"I suppose not."

"I get 'Playboy' to read the stories, and there was an article about her and her unsuccessful suitors."

"So you thought you would accept the challenge to outwit this cordon of brotherhood?"

"No, I just fancied her name. Bridie McGuire sounds rather cute. I'll let her keep that name when we marry next month."

A deathly silence hit the saloon. Two cockroaches sniggered first, and then the whole building shook and bottles rattled as the barwoman and her patrons – with the exception of Hal – laughed tears into their eyes.

"When are you going out to the McGuire place, Hal?"

"In the morning, Hank."

"Come on Hal," said the motherly prostitute. "Come and have a bath with me and then just cum. This will be your last time, so it's complimentary."

"Very well, Good Lady. But I will not be ejaculating. For the two years past I've been saving it for Bridie McGuire. It was also two years ago since I last read 'Playboy'.

The prostitute's name was Alice, and once she'd got rid of her heavily applied make-up and voluminous clothing, Hal would see she was definitely last year's model, but in rather good nick really.

"You keep staring at my breasts – does that mean you are a tit man?

"Not really, I can take them or leave them. I was really trying to decide which one to take."

"Please remove your clothes."

"Certainly, why?"

"I wish to decide which ball to suck, I mean take."

"Oh, you require a higher level of sophistication of your men when it comes to humour?"

"Well put. You can put it here, if you wish."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm glad you are not wearing all of that lipstick and powder otherwise when I withdraw from your mouth my cock will be looking like a barber's pole."

Alice spluttered in laugher and the sudden gush alarmed Hal; for a moment he'd thought she'd cum. False alarm, it was just pee.

They warmed up before bathing.

After fifteen minutes Hal's balls began to tighten, so he gently eased Alice backwards and out plopped his well-worked member.

"Into the bath now, Ducky," said Alice. "You go down the far end and play with my twat with your big toe. See how many times you can make me cum, as there's no restriction on my output."

Thirty minutes later Hal left the bath and got into bed. Alice followed a little later and found him asleep, so sighed and promised, "I'll pump you dry in the morning, young man."

Alice stirred at 5:00 and reached out for Hal, but he was not there. She looked at the chair and saw his clothes were gone. Well, that had turned out to be an indifferent complimentary but she did wish the boy luck. There was something steely about him, and that was beside the state of his cock!


"A stranger's coming," called Little Joe.

"Good, we haven't had fun with a courting man since the publication of that 'Playboy' article," replied Joe. "Wake up your brothers, Pipsqueak."

"Bridie, we've got one more for breakfast," called Joe, scratching himself while avoiding looking in the bathroom mirror because it wasn't a pretty sight.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Hal said, getting out of his rented Jeep and appearing quite relaxed being surrounded by the murderous brothers. "I'm Felix Greenhorn, Federal Building Inspector. I have a duty which is to inspect your habitat for vermin."

"Where's the habitat?" asked Little Joe."

"Forget that, Little Joe. Where's the ID, buster."

"Sir, Government agents are not required to furnish IDs – those ridiculous looking name-tags you see around the necks or on the clothing of FIB agents on TV are just the sick humour of a weirdo art director which everyone is now copying. The White House only requires our impersonators to produce ID."

"The White House?" chorused the older brothers.

"Impersonators? queried Little Joe, who was ignored.

"This is our sister, Miss Bridie McGuire," said Tom.

Hal looked at her and was enchanted, seeing the reincarnation of Snow White – a dress to the floor covered by an apron, alabaster coloured skin, incredibly ruby-red lips and long black shiny hair spilling down her back and also over her breasts, rather blocking the view of them. But what he did glimpse, looked great.

The McGuire boys sat down to a great breakfast, aware that something had materialised between their sister and this Greenhorn, although she hadn't appeared to look at him. A musky smell seemed to waft through the room.

Bridie finally broke the silence.

"You're not American. All other young men to visit this house have been American except for one Englishman whose mother was American."

Hal's heart melted and his cock went rigid. Her voice was so soft and filled with a purity that turned his liver to jelly.

"The Government has introduced equal opportunity employment and will now take anyone, even an adventurer from New Zealand."

"Where?" chorused the brothers.

"It's south-west of Tucson, I think, but a long ways," Hal said, speaking through an imaginary moustache of a Plainsman who as a retired and shifty General had allowed Custer to take The Last Stand.

"I go with the winds take me," Hal boasted, unwittingly releasing gas.

"I can see that," Bridie said dryly, and her brothers fell about laughing.

Quickly recovering, Hal made a request.

"Brush your hair aside, please Miss.



"They are evenly shaped and spaced apart well, but really you should wear a bra."

"Well I never. That's the first time I've been spoken to like that in my entire life."

"It's time you emerged into the real world."

"You cheeky creep. Luke!"

"Inspector or not, you can't insulted our sister," said the nearest brother to Hal. Luke half-turned and threw a punch, but Hal caught the fist as it neared his nose and in placing it back on the table broke the little finger, causing Luke to howl in pain.

"Right boys," snarled Tom. "Grab the chainsaw, jackhammer, my favouring gutting knife and a coffin."

"Hold it!"

Everyone froze.

"Under the powers invested in me I am required to make an official inspection of this house before indulging in any frivolity."

"Is frivolity a legal substance?" asked Little Joe, who was ignored.

The brothers sat back in their chairs.

"Cum, I mean come Miss McGuire and show me your habitat. We'll be right back, boys."

Closing the door behind them, Hal said, "That was quite an act you put on there, Miss McGuire. Very convincing. Here, allow me to kiss you."

Hal's puckered lips were flattened by Bridie's powerful slap.

"You foreign Git, thinking you can walk into my house, insult us all, eat my breakfast and break my brother's hand."


"What doe's it matter?"

"Depend what your lover is using."

Hal took her by the shoulders and Bridie began trying to tear his face with her broken nails. He managed to get a nipple between his fingers and in mid-flight she halted her attack and melted into his arms, crying "My God!"

"You disenchanted life is over, Bridie. You are being freed. Go sit in the bedroom while I deal with the situation. What are the names of your brothers?"

Hal opened the door into the kitchen where the brothers were seated nervously.

"Everything's fine so far, boys. Just need you to show me your bunks as I call you."

"Little Joe."

As Little Joe pointed to his bunk Hal, who was standing behind him, pressed a nerve under Little Joe's ear and caught him as the young fellow slumped towards the ground. Tearing a sheet into strips he bound the unconscious lad and placed him in his bunk.

"Luke," called Hal.

"What's wrong with Little Joe?" asked Luke, as Hal chopped him on the back of the neck. The unconscious Luke was tied up and dumped in a bunk.


"It's not Bill, it's Bull you Git," grumbled Bull just as Hal landed his fists grtipped together on the top of Bull's thick head.

"What was that?" called Joe dashing into the room, to be greeted with a powerful fist that bent his ribcage over his heart.

With the two heavier brothers bound face-down on the floor, Hal opened the kitchen door and called, "Oh Tommy?"

"Right behind you, asshole," snickered Tom.

Hal turned to find a gutting knife almost touching his belly button.

Tom's coal-black eyes were fired with red rims as he marched Hal backwards into the bedroom.

"You're pretty good, no-one ever got this far."

"How did you get away with so many murders, disposing of all evidence?"

"Oh, we retained everything of value, including their clothes. Those two bunks behind you – they are heavy, but they pull away from the wall. There's a trapdoor in the floor that leads down to our moonshine and booty."

"Moonshine? Nobody makes moonshine these days, do they?"

"We do."


"Well, it's time to say farewell, mister. Try not to release too much blood on to our pine floor. We have to ensure that Bridie knows nothing about how we actually discourage her suitors from ever calling again."

"You guys should be locked away."

"America doesn't lock away its farmers, croppers and ranchers; good ones are in short supply."

"This is goodbye then?" asked Hal, stalling for time, noticing Bridie creeping up behind her brother.

"Yes, heh-heh-heh. Bridie's virginity remains intact. We are aware that unsullied woman folk are more obedient, less bitchy and less likely to leave home than women who fuck."

"What does Bridie think about that?"

"I wouldn't know, never bothered to ask. It might upset her, heh-heh-heh."

"Do I get one last wish?"

"That's novel, okay then."

"Could you bend down a little, but keep your back straight." "Okay, but I'm keeping this knife pointing straight at you, so this little quirky routine is not going to get you your freedom."

"Oh yes it is, the routine is called 'Good night nurse'. Hit him, Bridie."

The heavy steel fry pan descended with Bridie's full weight behind it.


Tom dropped to the floor like a log, making the whole room shuddered.

"My hero!"

"My heroine!"


Early that afternoon the wedding was held in the saloon, the little guy in the black suit and bowler hat being a marriage celebrant.

Alice had insisted on marriage before the twenty-four year old beauty Bridie lost her virginity. Alice was bridesmaid and Hank gave the bride away in the absence of her brothers. Everyone was told the brothers were at home, nursing sore heads.

After the wedding breakfast the couple had a rousing farewell, leaving with a big bag of money because there had been no time for the population of the entire town who'd been invited to the crash wedding to buy a present, so they dug deep for folding stuff, Hank checking to ensure generosity was global.

Hal and Bridie drove to the nearby city and caught a commuter flight to an even larger city then a direct flight to LA where they took a cheap room for the night.

"Your breasts are beautiful," sighed Hal, licking them gently. As his tongue flicked over a nipple for a second time, Bridie said, "What was that?"

"It's called an orgasm, honey Probably a mini one because your eyes didn't turn up into your head. I'll get mum and my sister Peggy to talk to you about these things. Do you wish to continue?"

"Oooh, yes. I understand some of the theory. I want your thingy into me, that is what all these killings and my virtual imprisonment was all about, wasn't it?"

"Yep, Bridie. The thing that those twenty-three men before me desired is called a cunt, and it makes men sometimes do very strange things. Now, allow me to get my tongue into it to help lubricate it."

"It's small, will your tongue fit? It take me all me time getting a second finger in."

"Oh, it will fit, Bridie. Elasticity is a wonderful thing."

"Ooops, before I forget; the welfare of your brothers.

"I need to go out and make a phone call from a public call box as I have no wish to be traced. I have pulled the bunk out in the bedroom and now I need to call your local police to report a virile outbreak of pestilence at your former home and the possibility of it being a crime scene.

"Why don't you go and have a lovely foam bath. I will only be a few minutes, and when I jump in the bath with you I'll treat you to the delight of a toe massage. Alice honed me up on that one.

"America truly is a great place for innovation."


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byEgmont Grigor© 0 comments/ 16939 views/ 1 favorites

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