Jim Sutton gazed over the dry hump of dirt, down at the confusion below. Four men, Mexican bandits by the look of them, were having their way with a slender black-haired beauty. Her horse stood slapping at flies in unconcern. The other horses were ground-hitched near the water hole. He counted silently, pointing at each with his finger. His scalp bristled when he counted five horses all standing together. There were only four men down below. Where was the fifth?
Jim took a quick look around, then centered his attention on the woman. She was some looker, Jim thought. Probably half white and half Mexican by the look of her. There were only a few women in the area who would fit that description. The nearest was Layla Hernandes, from the Double X ranch. Her father was white and mother Mexican, if he remembered right.
The leader of the gang suddenly grabbed the back of the woman’s dress and pulled. Her chest was laid bare. Her arms went across her beautiful breasts. With another yank she stood naked in the mid-day sun. Somehow she looked natural, all tanned and beautiful, stark naked in the middle of nowhere.
Jim started to rise, when he felt the tip of a rifle touch his left ear. His pistol was yanked from his holster. He raised his hands, mustered a smile and turned to face his captor.
“Compadre,” he said genially.
“I don’t know you,” the dirty man said. He was missing a front tooth. His hair was long and uncurried. The poncho he wore was made from an old Indian blanket. The only clean thing about him was the rifle in his hands, and the sparkling cartridges in his gun belt. A bone handled revolver, probably stolen, protruded from a hand-tooled holster. A pair of California spurs were tied together and resting over his right shoulder. That explained the lack of noise, he thought, looking down at the man’s boots.
“Compadre, we are on the same side. I was just about to go down and see if your friends would allow me to join them,” Jim lied.
“Go now,” the man signaled with the tip of his rifle. Jim started down. The men stopped, suddenly wary. They looked around, then looked back at Jim. Jim knew how a Sunday chicken felt, he was about to be roasted.
“This man says he wants to play,” the dirty man spoke in a loud voice. The woman gasped and turned, a look of hope filling her face. She stared around at the hilltops, with her arms covering her nakedness. A look of disappointment filled her eyes as she looked back at Jim.
“Why are you here, gringo,” the leader of the men asked, pulling his knife as he advanced.
“For her,” Jim snorted. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful woman. Hell, I’d give up half my gold for an hour with her.”
“Gold?” the man’s interest peeked. “What gold?” he asked in a deceptively mild voice.
“The Army shipment. You must have heard about it, it was in all the papers,” he said, knowing the man probably could not read, but would never admit it. “I got away with nearly a ton of gold.”
“A ton,” the man’s eyes bugged out. “Where?”
“Seven days south of here, in a box canyon. It’s in a little dugout that I made myself. Damned good job too, you could never find it unless you knew where it was. Hey, can I dally with her?” he asked, faking impatience.
“Maybe,” the man said, waving the knife in front of his face. “First tell me more about the gold,” he said. His greedy eyes flashed from one of his companions to the others. A slight smile crossed his face. “We were going to ransom this woman,” he laughed, “but for a ton of gold we could kill her and forget about the ransom.”
“Kill her!” Jim said in alarm. “No, I want her.”
“very well, but you will be last,” he said, tossing the knife into the ground. He bent and picked it up. Two halves of a scorpion lay kicking in the dirt. Jim swallowed and tried to smile.
“Amigos, hold her,” the leader said. They dragged her back to the blanket, which someone had laid out on the ground. She screamed and kicked at them, but they only laughed.
Jim was prodded forward by the rifle. He hurried forward, his eyes glued to her darkly furred pussy, centered between some of the prettiest legs he had ever seen. She saw him looking and glared, then spat. He smiled and sat cross legged next to the blanket. He dodged as her bare foot tried to smash into his face, barely missing his nose.
He grabbed the foot, kissed it tenderly, then let go and dodged a second kick.
“Hold that foot,” the leader said to Jim as he undid his pants. Jim grabbed twice before he held the struggling foot in his hands. Her pussy was absolutely delectable. Her breasts jiggled as she struggled between the five men. Her pussy was open and pink. Jim licked his lips and sighed. He had a long wait before his turn came around.
“She’s going to like this,” the leader said as he pushed down his pants. “I had a calf when I was young, he made me the man I am today,” the man howled, holding out a ten inch long cock. He wagged it, eliciting howls of laughter from his men. Layla stopped and gasped at the huge cock, before she remembered to struggle again. She seemed to struggle far less as he knelt between her legs, positioned the pointed end of his cock and shoved. She screamed as he penetrated her inviting pussy. With a moan of pleasure he began pumping in and out of her helpless mound.
Jim watched, awestruck. He no longer needed to hold the foot, she had stopped struggling. In a moment she was moaning along with the leader. He pumped savagely, slamming his ten inches of meat into her quivering flesh. And she arched up off the ground and pushed to meet him with each stroke. The man had been right, she was enjoying it.
“Wait, let me join in,” one of the other men said. He held up a hand and the leader stopped pumping. He pulled out and the other man rolled Layla over on her side. With her knees drawn up to her chin, her pussy and ass lay open, inviting.
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