The Girl Who Fucked Liberty Valance : Wank Wednesday

Wank Wednesday goes Wild West today. The prompt word is #border. For more information and links to all the stories check out Ruby Kiddell's site The Erotic Notebook.

The Girl Who Fucked Liberty Valance

"You're going to come to a bad end, mark my words," said Kitty Sweet, as she lit her cheroot with one hand and washed the cum off of the bad man's cock with the other.

"I've cum in your end often enough," replied Liberty Valance with an evil smile. "It's an outlaw's life for me. Live fast, die young and leave an impressive pile of corpses. That's my philosophy."

"You're a wicked man, but a good tipper," the pretty young prostitute pointed out as she sat back on her bed with her black-stocking-clad legs spread and her smoothly shaven pink pussy proudly on display. Apart from her stockings she wore a frilly pink bodice which squeezed in her waist and presented her full, soft pale breasts like ripe fruit on a platter.

Kitty loved her job. She loved hunky cowboys and wildly wicked outlaws. And, even more, she loved their big stiff cocks. Some of them might be famously quick on the draw, but all of them were long and slow when it came to sliding their loveguns in and out of the horny holster between her thighs. They liked to get their money's worth. They loved the feel of her small soft hands grabbing the firm cheeks of their butts, whether they were smooth or hairy, and greedily urging them to sink their pricks deeper into her cum-hungry cunt. They prided themselves on how many squealing orgasms she would have before her cervix was shot down in a hail of sperm.

A sign on the door of her bedroom read : "The Whore is In - Please Take a Number." All down the hallway of the hotel sat men in dusty jeans and check shirts with cowboy hats - some white, some black - in their laps, covering signs of their impatient ardour for Kitty.

As Liberty left, her next customer entered. He was a tall, slim man with cold eyes, which squinted like he had been a long time in the bright sun. He had a rough stubble on his face, against which he lit a match as he looked down at Kitty on the bed. He smoked the same brand of cheroots as she did.

"What's your name, honey?" she asked.

"I don't have one," he told her, with a voice like smooth sandpaper. "I'm the man with no name."

"How unfortunate," Kitty sympathised, feeling a twitch in her clit as he stripped off to reveal a particularly impressive erection.

"My mother was very indecisive," he explained. "She read all those baby name book, but could never settle on one."

"So what did she call you?" Kitty enquired, as the man climbed onto the bed beside her.

"Son, or boy," he replied. "When I was very young, Poopy Pants."

"Do you mind if I call you Harry?" she wanted to know.

"That'd make my day," he said, with a slow breaking smile.

She took a sniff of his hairy chest.

"You smell very clean," she declared.

"I have a bath twice a day," he explained.

"Dirty Harry!" exclaimed Kitty.

"I just told you, I bathe twice a day," he laughed.

"You're still a very dirty man to stick your finger up Kitty's bottom," she insisted.

"You mean you don't like men sticking things up your bottom?" he wanted to know.

"I never said that," she admitted. "But I'm a very, very dirty girl indeed."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, flipping her over, lubricating his cock with some of the face cream Kitty kept beside the bed and sliding his meat magnum deep into the winking pink hole between her soft pale bum cheeks.

"Bugger me!" Kitty cried. "You don't waste any time buggering a girl, do you?"

"Whether you're robbing a bank or fucking a whore, nothing beats a surprise assault on the back door," he informed her.

"A poet as well," she giggled as she gave herself an orgasm by rubbing her stiff little clit. She loved the feeling of her sensitive rectum stretched tight around a big butt-ful of throbbing cock.

The man with no name reached down into Kitty's bodice and eased her big breasts over the top of it so that he could pinch her sensitive stiff nipples.

"Is Doctor Harry going to give his pretty little patient a jism enema?" squealed Kitty, as she reached her fifth orgasm.

"What you have rammed into your rear end is the most powerful cum-shooter in the world. I could blow your bum clean off," warned the man. "Much safer if I finish myself off by hand."

And so he pulled his cock out of Kitty's warm tight butt-hole with a resounding "plop" and began pumping it slowly and leisurely in his fist. Kitty flipped over and fingered her cunt as she watched with a huge grin on her face. It wasn't long before he grunted and a big fountain of creamy cum shot out of his cock and splattered all over Kitty. Some landed on her nose, so she licked it off with her agile tongue.

"So where are you from?" she asked.

"I'm not from anywhere," he told her as he put his clothes back on. "I just wander the desert, visiting random towns only when I need to get a fistful of dollars. Or, when I'm in a gay mood, to get a dollar's worth of fisting."

"Well, make sure you drift through town again sometime soon," she ordered, patting his tight jean-clad butt as he walked out, "or you'll be unforgiven."

Kitty's next customer was none other than the notorious Jesse James.

"How's the bank robbery business panning out for you?" asked Kitty as she tried to nonchalantly wipe off the evidence of her previous customer's prodigious cumshot with her dainty handkerchief.

"Not bad," Jesse told her, as he pulled down his dusty jeans to reveal a pair of pink lacy bloomers.

"They're mine, aren't they?" cried Kitty. "I might have known I couldn't trust a bank robber."

"I like to feel you close to me between visits," Jesse explained.

"Well, make sure you aren't wearing them when that weasel Robert Ford is around," she advised. "You don't want the newspapers to report that you died wearing pink frilly panties."

"Robert?" Jesse queried. "The guy's a hundred percent trustworthy. I keep telling you that. I don't know why you don't like him."

*          *          *

During her breaks, Kitty liked to hang out in the saloon downstairs.

Now she was wearing a scarlet dress which showed a lot of cleavage as she sat at a table drinking gin.

"You must see lots of famous gunslingers living here in Bedwood," said the fresh-faced and freckled youth who was sitting with her. "Myself, I'm just a simple cowpoke."

"Well, honey," Kitty smiled. "If you ever get sick of poking those cows, you come up and see me sometime, y'hear?"

It was at that moment that the saloon's doors swung open to admit a familiar figure. At the sight of him, a coldness gripped Kitty's heart.

In her mind she was hurled back to her childhood. Once more she was a little girl standing horrified by the apple tree in the front garden as she heard the sound of three gunshots from inside the house.

"Daddy! Daddy!" she cried, running for the porch.

But then out strode Farnsworth G. Farnsworth shoving his smoking gun back into its holster with one hand while twirling the edge of his moustache with the other.

She never got into the house. Farnsworth tripped her and she fell face first into the dust. Then he pulled a stick of dynamite out of his overcoat, lit it with a match and threw it back through the open door.

The explosion that ripped apart her childhood home, also ripped apart her soul. From that point she realised that this was the wild west, a place where only the strong could survive.

Her father had refused to sell his farm to make way for Farnsworth's railway. He'd never harmed anyone in his life, but kindness counted for nothing in this lawless land.

Now Kitty was confronted with this demon from her past. He had a touch of grey in his hair, which was otherwise as black as his heart, but nothing else about him had changed. Kitty had the advantage on him. There was no way that he would associate that frightened little girl with the sassy whore who sat drinking her gin in the front bar of the White Buffalo Saloon.

He was with Cedric Branston, the man who owned virtually all of the real estate in town, including the White Buffalo. Cedric was a short man in a top hat with a salt and pepper beard. Kitty had to give him a cut of her takings, although officially he knew nothing about what took place upstairs at the saloon.

"You don't know how good it feels to play poker with someone who can match my stakes," Farnsworth told him.

"I don't gamble often," Branston replied. "But when I do I like to really go the whole hog."

Kitty sauntered over for a closer look, making an effort to hide the storm of rage that was tearing at her heart.

"Hi, Kitty," said Branston. "Meet my friend Mr. Farnsworth."

"A pleasure," she replied cooly, kissing his hand. But in her mind she completed the sentence - "...it would be to tear out your heart."

She stood and watched as the pair gambled. The stakes were indeed high. She had never seen so much money in one place before.

Luck was not going Branston's way. Soon he had lost all of his cash.

"Well, it looks like a pleasant afternoon's amusement has come to an end," Farnsworth stated as he gathered up the money.

"Wait," Branston responded. "All or nothing."

"All or nothing against what?" Farnsworth wanted to know.

"The Town of Bedwood," Branston replied.

"But.." Kitty began to protest, and then realised that it was not her place.

The thought of Farnsworth taking possession of her town was too horrible for Kitty to contemplate. Branston was a sleaze, but he was not a sleaze who had murdered her father.

Bold though Branston might be, luck still refused to favour him.

"A round of drinks on the house," Farnsworth declared. "Never let it be said that the new owner of the White Buffalo Saloon doesn't look after his customers."

Kitty collected another gin from the bartender and sat back at her table to consider her next move.

"Enjoying your gin on the house?" Farnsworth enquired slimily.

"I always enjoy gin," Kitty replied coldly.

"Now that I'm the owner, I think there is something I might like to enjoy on the house," he told her, running a clammy hand down her cheek.

A few minutes later they were up in her room and Farnsworth was removing his pants to reveal his bandy legs and his massive boner.

"I've never owned my own slut before," he leered. "Normally if I want a sexy woman I have to rape her."

Kitty kept a gun in her bedside drawer.

"I have some special perfume," she told him. "I want to make myself extra sexy for you." She reached into the drawer and pulled out the pistol.

"Did anyone ever tell you you look too pretty to be a filthy whore cunt?" Farnsworth asked.

"This is for my daddy," replied Kitty and blew his cock off.

Farnsworth staggered around the room trying to staunch the flow of blood from his crotch. When he moved backwards away from the bed, Kitty shot him point blank in the heart and pushed him out the window.

She would have to run. She was a murderer. It wouldn't be long before Marshall Twerp would come looking for her.

*          *          *

Two days later she was riding across the desert headed for the Rio Grande. If she could make it across the border into Mexico she would be safe.

She was wearing jeans, a check shirt and a cowboy hat. From a distance no-one would have recognised that she was a woman.

At nightfall she stopped and lit a camp fire. She'd brought a few cans of beans with her, along with a can opener, a frying pan and a spoon. She was hungry and the beans tasted good.

She hadn't had any sex for two days. Once her stomach had been satisfied, her pussy began to tell her that it was horny.

Surely there couldn't be anyone around for miles, she thought. Why not make herself comfortable? She loved being nude out-of-doors in this warm weather. So she stripped naked, threw down a blanket and began masturbating shamelessly in the bright moonlight.

She was sucking on her right nipple and fingering her wet cunt happily, when, all of a sudden, a pair of strange fingers pinched her left nipple.

"What the fuck!?!" she cried, jumping up.

"My name Pronto," said the huge Apache who stood up next to her. "Pronto like to help white woman satisfy her happy hole."

"I've never met an Indian before," Kitty informed him nervously.

"We prefer 'native American'," he corrected her. "Indian racist term. Imply we are bunch of cow-worshipping curry munchers."

"I'm sorry," replied Kitty.

She looked down at the place where his loin cloth was bunched up over the top of a proud and massive erection.

"They don't really work terribly well when you're excited, do they?" she pointed out.

"You have been scalped between the legs!" he exclaimed.

Kitty giggled.

"It's nice and smooth," she told him. "Want to feel?" And she grabbed his big calloused hand and rubbed his fingers all over her cunt.

"Also very wet," he replied.

"Come on, big boy," she purred, stroking his rock hard prick. "Let's fuck in the moonlight."

For such a big and muscular brave he was surprisingly gentle as he lay her down upon the blanket, cradling her soft bottom as he did so. And then he fucked her in the position the missionaries had taught him.

She could easily have got accustomed to being fucked by a big muscular savage. She loved the feel of his hard and hairless chest against her soft breasts, and the feel of his buttocks, which were as hard as his cock, beneath her hands.

Pronto howled like a coyote as he came and Kitty joined in.

"You can have a powwow in my pussy any time you like," she sighed.

They cuddled and kissed beneath the full moon. Then Kitty fell asleep. When she awoke, he was gone.

*          *          *

When she reached the Rio Grande, Kitty stripped naked. It was going to be a hard swim, impossible in clothes.

She waded out from the shore, the current pulling at her hard. Once she was in the full flow of the river she had to let it carry her with it, hoping to be able to fight hard enough to gradually get a little closer to the opposite shore.

She made it. She was now four miles down river from the point at which she had begun the crossing, but she was back on dry land.

There was no doubt she was taking a major gamble walking into Mexico stark naked, but what other option did she have?

She saw nobody for several hours, and the heat was making her feel weak. She knew she should try to keep going, but she just didn't have it in her. So she sat her bare bottom down in the hot sand and she started to cry.

It was at this moment that she heard the sound of hoofbeats coming towards her out of the desert.

Up rode a very handsome Mexican man with a moustache and a large sombrero.

"It must be my lucky day," he told her. "It is not every day that I find a naked beauty in the desert. Please allow me to be your knight in the shining armour."

"I thought I was a goner," Kitty confessed.

"Allow me to introduce myself," said the Mexican. "I am Smokey Joe, owner of the famous Smokey Joe's Cafe in Tijuana."

"Hi, Joe," Kitty smiled. "I'm Kitty Sweet, the famous whore from Bedwood. Please allow me to suck your cock in gratitude for coming to my rescue."

"Smokey Joe is known for many things," he informed her, hopping down from his horse. "But turning down free blow jobs is not one of them."

He dropped his baggy peasant pants to reveal his stiff cock. It was not exceptionally long, but it was prodigiously fat. Kitty loved the way she had to stretch her jaw to get her teeth around it. It felt so lovely and warm against her tongue. Now that she once more had a dick in her mouth, she knew everything was going to turn out fine.

"I've always had a thing for gringo girls," Joe told her, letting out a little moan as she gobbled on his gonads.

It wasn't long before he filled her mouth so full of spunk that it ran out over her lips. She swallowed it down hungrily.

Then he took off his shirt and gave it to her to wear. It made her almost decent as she rode behind him towards Tijuana.

"I live in a house behind my cafe," he explained. "And I'm looking for a border."

"A border who has a surefire way of earning rent money?" she asked.

"Of course," he responded. "My customers are really going to go for a hot tamale like you!"

The End