Squawman

Author: Western

Lee ducked his head, peeking under a low-hanging branch at the Apache squaw bathing in the river. Normally he left the Apaches strictly alone, they were the fiercest warriors and best trackers on Earth. But this girl had caught his attention and he just couldn’t let it lie. She was beautiful by any standard. He had heard the disdain in the voice of his fellow men, directed at any white man who took a squaw. Squawman, indian lover, they would say. He didn’t care. She was special, light-skinned, shapely and proud. As she finished her bath, she redressed and began fishing. Why she was alone, he couldn’t begin to guess. Maybe she was lost, or possibly she had escaped from another tribe. Maybe she was a holy woman, out on a nameless adventure. In any event she was at least a two-week ride from the nearest Apache encampment.

Dixie pranced impatiently. Lee quickly quieted his gelding, then looked at the squaw again. She was staring around suspiciously. She was poised to run, like a frightened doe.

“My God, she is beautiful,” Lee sighed. “That’s for me,” he said in sudden resolution. He spurred his horse forward. Dixie leaped into the river, causing a huge splash and a crashing commotion as he stormed the far side of the river. The beautiful squaw dropped her makeshift fishing pole and ran. Lee was amazed at her speed and agility, but she had no chance against Dixie. Dixie was a mustang bred cutting horse who could turn on a dime, heading off any pesky yearling calf, before the calf even realized where it was going. With the same ease Dixie followed the squaw, cutting her off as she was about to dash between two huge trees. With a slight nudge of his shoulder, she flew into the right-hand tree and bounced off with a sickening smack.

“Oh hell!” Lee yelled, sliding from the saddle. He looked around first to make sure he was really alone, then knelt above the beautiful woman. Her leather dress had slid well up her shapely thighs. He breathed heavily as his eyes followed the smooth golden expanse of flesh. He folded up the fringed skirt and found she was naked beneath it. Indians did not wear undergarments, apparently. At least this one didn’t. Her pubic hair was ample, but not unruly. Her pussy lips were dark and inviting. She suddenly sat up, her skirt dropping down to cover her nakedness, as she tried to turn and run.

“Whoa up there,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulder. “You are hurt and need help,” he said, blotting at the blood on her forehead. Her hand went to her forehead and came away bloody. She suddenly looked up at the tree, remembering what had happened. She looked around calmly, then surged up off the ground.

“Oh hell,” Lee said again. He drew his gun and struck her over the head. An hour later, with the woman draped over the back of his saddle, he was directing his horse up the river and across a bed of solid rock. As long as he took it easy, Dixie would not strike a mark on the stone face, making it impossible to track them. Dixie threw his head, not liking the constant pressure of the reins. He shook his head again.

“Ok,” Lee said quietly, releasing the reins. “Got ahead, boy, run to your heart’s content.” He knew it would be almost impossible for anyone to track them, even an Apache. Now it was time to give Dixie his head and put some distance behind them. Dixie started off at a gentle lope. The unconscious Indian girl bounced across the horse behind him.

Lee stopped at another stream. He watered Dixie while he drank upstream. When he looked up he saw the Indian girl looking back at him. She suddenly squeezed her eyes closed. Lee laughed. He went up to the girl and untied her. She fell to the ground, laying motionless until she realized that her ploy would not work.

“Drink,” Lee said, pointing at the stream. Her hands were still tied, she wasn’t going anywhere.
Back in the saddle, he tied the girl’s hands to the saddle horn on a foot long leash of leather. He climbed up behind her and started Dixie off at a gentle lope. He dug into his saddle bags for hardtack and jerky. He gave half to her and began gnawing on the rest himself. She was able to eat by bending forward and tearing at the food in her tethered hands.

Lee grew very aware of the heat of her body against his, the gentle rocking of her ass against his pelvis, and the clear expanse of skin where her skirt slid up her legs. The short skirt was not made for riding. Her widely-spread legs caused the leather skirt to ride up to her upper thighs. She didn’t seem to notice, or care.

Lee finished his sparse meal. He took the canteen off the saddle, drank, then handed the canteen to the girl. She drank and handed it back. There was a brief look of gratitude in her eyes as she turned and looked at him over her shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the ample, mellon-shaped breasts in her tight leather shirt. His cock was rock hard, aching. It been nestled against the girl’s ass for over an hour.

“My God, I can’t stand this,” he mumbled. She couldn’t understand him, of course. It didn’t matter. He suddenly found his hands full of soft, firm breasts. His hands had crept around her body of their own violation. She sat rigid for a moment, then leaned back against him with her eyes closed. It was more than Lee could stand. He knew her perfect little ass, and sweet pussy were riding naked against the smooth leather of his saddle. He could imagine the effect the leather would have on her soft, womanly flesh.

Mat suddenly stood in the stirrups and unbuttoned his levis. She turned to watch, not commenting or showing any emotion. He rolled the buttons down and allowed his cock to spring free. As he eased down into the saddle, the girl lifted her perfect little ass and slid back against him. His cock slid into her pussy without trouble. He had been right about the effect of his saddle on her naked pussy, she was hot and very wet.

Lee knew the easiest way to fuck in the saddle. He kicked Dixie in the ribs, spurring him on to a trot. They rocked in the saddle, naturally coming together and a rocking apart, in time with Dixie’s smooth, flawless gait.

Holding the reins in one hand, Lee filled his left hand with her sweet breast. Thumbing her nipple elicited a gasp of pleasure from the girl. He knew they normally did not show emotion, although they had the same emotions of a white woman. The gasp was a compliment.

Dixie arrived at a slide of shale. Without hesitation he began clawing his way upward, sharply jolting those in the saddle with quick, jerky movements. The girl cried out and held onto Lee’s hand, where it clung to her breast. Her head came back and rested next to his, against his shoulder. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. Her eyes sprang open in surprise. She turned to look him in the eyes, and he sealed his mouth over her small, warm lips. In seconds she realized what he was doing, and responded in kind.

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