It is a dark time for the nation divided by civil war, yet in the midst of this spoof of a battle, the love of a brother and sister is carried out to its full consumation. Come and enjoy the story that mixes the style of F troop and Taboo in one.
It was among the darkest days of the nation, as generations of debate and anger over land, water, taxation, state rights, civil liberties and the abomination of slavery erupted. Three years past a small band of rebels murdered the standing President and his minions, leaving the succession in doubt for his office, thus leading to a full scale civil war.
Among the gathering states five main coalitions emerged: Union North, Confederate South, Pacifica West, Independence of the North Central lands, and the independent state of Arizona.
Most of the four larger state gatherings have left Arizona alone; having learned the hard way that those very signs on the borders are very true, as one states clearly:
“If you come in peace welcome; if not go home and leave us be, or die, your choice. Just be sure to notify your next of kin to come and collect your carcass if you chose the second option.”
Yet despite all the previous disasters inflicted upon the invaders by the natives of Arizona, a band of desperate Pacifica forces cross through the forbidding deserts to try and reach home. There is one small problem though, and it is the small Union detail in hot pursuit, determined to return the plunder the Pacifica forces have taken.
“Blast it Colonel,” shouted General Rivertine, commander of the Union expedition, “how much more of this infernal land do we have to cross? The very dust of the ground has dust upon it…and why of all the things in the world do I need to ride upon a camel…dumb brutes…”
Colonel Smith just watches for a minute as the General opens a bottle of whisky and downs it in three massive gulps; then casually tosses it against some rocks. Day after day it is the same thing; the General complains, gets drunk and drifts off to sleep on the back of his camel…
Not that his own fierce mount is much to look at – a flea bitten mule that is all but deaf.
“General Sir,” Smith said, “the camel is the best beast to ride and not have drop dead at any moment in this desert; we are able to make good time and will reach the Anderson ranch well ahead of the Pacifica forces. Sir I might advice we push on as far as possible today, the scouts say a body of water lays ahead about a mile away…might make a good place to camp…”
“Make it so Colonel…” he promptly drifted off to sleep in the saddle while his camel snorted in pure disgust.
Smith just shakes his head, ordering a band of his men ahead to secure the watering hole for his side.
“Why in the world did the forces of Pacifica have to launch their raid upon the breweries? What is so blasted valuable in White Lightning to a bunch of psychotic opera directors?”
As usual nothing answered him save the silent whispering of the desert winds.
Near the body of water a small band of Union troops close upon a lone wagon; nearby two unharnessed drays casually graze. Finding this all too easy, they wonder for a time if it could be a trap set for them by the forces of Pacifica…after all, their states are led by a band of homicidal opera conductors; thus they are capable of any kind of deceit.
The Colonel always cautioned them when they advance this way: ‘thus that is the cowardly way the enemies of our beloved Union fight in this forsaken land that we should just up and abandon.’
Surrounding it in a loose circle, they gradually close all gaps to where even a rabbit could not slip out without being noticed. One Sergeant motions to a pair of men to secure the horses and lead them off, not caring if they belong to the local ranchers or not…to him they are the entire enemy, no matter what side they claim to support.
Yet the men hesitate, hearing a cacophony of strange sounds from within the wagon…
The two dray horses, geldings, suddenly look at each other and then to the two men approaching; their ears flap back and teeth become bared in clear expression of warning and brewing anger…
“Randy, stop it already!” called the lady within the wagon.
Her cries of protest mix with the wildest of laughter, tears flowing from her amber eyes, as her companion continue to kiss and pucker his lips against her bared stomach. Each touch and movement doubles her up with a wild, heady mixture of passion, pleasure and sheer joy flowing across her being like wildfires in a forest.
The thick pile of blankets and pillows she rests upon keeps flowing and shifting from their antics; especially when he twirls his tongue upon her belly button, triggering a full scale assault of squeals and laughs, while she playfully shoves at him with both hands.
One subtle shift of an inch or so brings a kiss to a spot that causes her back to arch, legs to draw up along her side, and bringing a massive gulp of contentment from her lips. Her hands hold onto his neck as he continues the constant moves of tease, please, and tease again, over and over…
Randy just smiles, reveling in the softness of his sisters skin, the sweet-salty taste on his lips and the heady scent of her perfume of the jasmine lotus.
Oh how well he knows this game they play; thus he returns to again kiss and make pfth, pfth, sounds and vibrations with his lips; thus causing another howling series of laughs and squeals of delight from Pearl.
He looks up at her with his eyes, seeing the continuing reddening of her cheeks, the soft sheen of perspiration starting to appear. She gasps for breath when he eases up for a moment, her eyes shining with joy and building lust that burns brighter and brighter by the second.
So he returns to kissing and puckering his lips on her stomach; blowing puffs of air gently onto her skin, and moving his fingers in spirals, swirls, circles and similar patterns back and forth; yielding a new treasure from her of laughs and gut shaking giggles.
Ever so slowly he has been inching to the hem of her skirt and petticoats, preparing to seek out the richest and sweetest of treasures she possesses; for he loves the salty sweet taste of those hidden depths, reveling in the sweet passionate smells of her womanhood, and the pleasures he causes to thrill and tease from Pearl before they fully engage their physical union.
He feels his own manhood pounding away in his britches, demanding to be released here and now.
Again his eyes drift up to look over her body, raven black hair encompassing those sea green eyes, he sees clearly her heaving chest, bare breasts rising and falling with each breath she takes. The nipples, each one fully swollen and pink with the heat of her rising passions; standing like the still peaks of two wonderful mountains, great treasures waiting for the one daring enough to seek them out.
“Randy…oh my…Randy…please…oh, oh, right there…” she cried out to him, tears flowing from her eyes.
His hands lower her skirt down by an inch before he returns to kissing and caressing the exposed flesh.
Pearl lays back, hands covering her face as her breath becomes heavily, gulping down air while her lips quiver, her eyes begin to take on their dreamy expression as her world narrows to the here and now.
He moves her skirt down three inches and exposes the tops of her hips, which he caresses with his fingertips.
Randy then moves up to her breasts, sucking on each nipple in turn and twirling them with his tongue; sending rainbows of bliss and fiery pleasure cascading into Pearl’s mind.
“No Randy, stop it…” she cried out.
He looked at her with confusion on his face.
“Come on sis, don’t tell me you hate all this enjoyment you get to experience…I mean if you want me to stop I will do so…”
He moved to stand up.
She fixed him with the harshest of stares she knew how to give; only to see his puppy eyed face and forlorn expression of hands over his heart, the testimony of one so heartbroken that he may perish of anguish and of love now lost for good.
“Don’t you DARE stop Randy…get down there and keep…whoa!” she cried out.
Pearl had never seen him move THAT FAST before in her life…
Unknown to the Union forces, an armed band of Pacifica troops has all but surrounded THEM. The Sergeant in charge of this force still counts his good fortune to have a sharp eyed scout in the band; otherwise they would have walked into the ambush…a wagon set out for bait with a pair of horses grazing nearby…
He sees two of the Union soldiers begin to bring harness and bits to the horses, apparently determined to keep up the act of this being just a normal encounter with some local ranchers.
Yes, this will be a letter perfect ambush…nothing can go wrong…
That is about the time any experienced trooper will look over at his commander; the expression on his face a clear message of “Yeah, right!”
She sees him holding up her skirt and petticoats, then with a wide, Cheshire grin he flings them aside.
With them have gone her undergarments; leaving her bare from the waste down in one swift, precise, and surprising move. Her gasps of consternation become ones of embarrassment as he boldly shifts his position down lower over her body, gently parting her legs…
Randy then caresses each leg, raising them over his shoulders to focus his fingertips upon each of her innermost thighs; sending a steady series of shudders and twitches up her body. So smooth is her skin, soft as the finest of oriental silk, that most would miss the strength he knows lies beneath the gentle façade.
His first gentle kiss causes a long giggle and squeal from Pearl. The second on the opposing thigh causes a gasp partly smothered by her hands. That sweet taste of her skin, the smell of his sisters most intimate area so near, makes his head spin with giddy anticipation of their play to come.
Inch by inch he places three kisses, on one thigh then over to the other, moving inevitably closer to his desired destination…one that Pearl suddenly understands….
“Randy!” she cried out in surprise and anticipation.
She broke into a mass of giggles, groans, and a soft succession of ‘oh!’ while covering part of her face with her hands when his lips reached the soft folds of her womanhood.
Several times Pearl’s back arched upward as her hips gyrated in synch with Randy’s actions. He sought out among the hidden wonders and delights of her womanhood the most intimate of pleasurable spots; moving his tongue in a series of letter patterns of a K, D, E, W and so forth. Each one visibly drove Pearl more and more wild with each passing moment….
Moaning and crooning, Pearl just felt her body melting away, as it always does under the tender administration of her brother’s affections. Each subtle, swirling, twirling exploration of his tongue and lips upon her sent one cascade of pleasure upon another into her mind, making her briefly feel as if she was adrift among the very stars of heaven itself…
…just like when she first allowed him to pleasure her womanhood a year back, he has never been one to disappoint her or the other sisters of their family. Oh how much she has come to love this since that day in the hay loft with Randy, her and two of the other girls nearby, helping to show her the true wonders of love and lust with ones own family and kin…wonderful…
Hardly a day passes, in which she does not have sex with Randy or one of her sisters; preferably with more than one and him at the same time.
His fingers gently probe into the depths of her womanhood, teasing here and there, moving and tenderly as she becomes more and more moist. Then her hips thrust upward when he starts to quickly vibrate two of them in rhythm; two quick, sharp gasps and squeals of rapturous bliss erupt from her…
This is one thing he loves to do for Pearl, the eldest of his four sisters: to pleasure her to the fullest before they get fully intimate, and he is always seeking new ways to do this better while listening to her own suggestions.
For a moment he pulls his fingers out, teasingly smelling her womanly moisture as Pearl looks at him; he moves down over her womanhood a second time, inhaling the sweet smells mixing together; goes closer and closer as if to continue his ministration and then kisses her thighs again and again until she gives him a stern look.
Smiling, he moves onto her womanhood again, tongue and lips teasing the outside while fingers gently tease and please the depths within.
“Randy…come on…lets…oh, oh, right there…” she softly cooed, moaned and groaned. Randy kept hitting one sensuous spot after another; her body felt like it was made of molten metal, burning and glowing with the fiercest of fires and ready to be poured into a mold for a new masterpiece to be created…
Smiling, clearly understanding the message he slips out of his britches and slowly moves up over her; kissing each portion of her loving body from womanhood up the abdomen, then between both breasts…which he gently strokes and caresses with one hand, teasing the nipples and all portions of the skin with a feathery touch and warm puffs of air that draw more shuddering delight from his sister.
Randy executes tease after luscious tease on Pearl, bringing her to near climax; then easing her down only to repeat the cycle over and over again. She playfully slaps him, calling him a cad and all such matter of names with wild giggles.
Upon her neck he places a dozen and six wonderful kisses that cause her body to writhe in anticipation of the consummation both are now longing for.
Easing down onto his elbows, she takes his manhood into her hands and eases it into position; then guiding as he slips into the warm and moist depths of her womanhood.
This is the way they have done it since their first time together, to spare another scene of him taking twenty minutes to ‘find it’ while she waited impatiently, passions aroused to the point she felt like exploding into a fine mist…
Fully inside of her he begins to slowly move in and out, determined to make the most of the time for the two of them together. Their bodies begin to move and dance in harmony of the oldest song around, the mixing of their mutual body heat, sweat glistening on their skin and the heady grunts, giggles and squeals sounding like the wildest of beasts is hidden away in their wagon.
His groans became deeper and deeper, face tightening up in the passion of pure, animalistic lust approaching its climatic conclusion; closer and closer he comes, as he tries to hold off a bit longer so his dear sister can have the most pleasure of their union…
Until finally he can hold it back no more and with one grunt that would have made a stallion proud he sends his life seed deep into the womanhood of Pearl.
She reached her climax as well, yelling out a wild, raw scream of abandoned delight and bliss.’’
With a shout for their surrender the Union forces turn away from the wagon and see the fact that THEY are indeed surrounded; twice more the Pacifica Sergeant calls out to them, growing angrier with their stubborn defiance.
Then the two drays rear and lunge forward at they’re would be captors, sending the two privates fleeing for their very lives. Both men twist and turn to avoid the mad beasts, diving and dodging among Union and Pacifica forces with equal abandon. Men on both sides go flying, shoved aside or jump to avoid the massive, thundering hooves of them.
One Pacifica troop accidently blunders into a Union trooper and a fist fight starts out; all rifles are forgotten about as a grand old brawl breaks out among the two opposing forces. The echoes of meaty, thundering blows echo across the field.
The clarion call for reinforcements sounds off first from the Union troops who look down upon the brawl. As the echoing cry of the bugles sounds across the landscape, they are joined by the unearthly wail of the Pacifica signals – a trumpet, three ram’s horns, and a massive, bellowing, badly off key tuba.
When the latter quartet sounds off, both sides of the brawl cease their struggles; momentarily caught off guard, until the Pacifica Sergeant just shrugs.
“What do you expect; our nation is led by a bunch of opera musicians who are a bunch of psychopathic musical murderers; and mind you, THEY are the ones who ordered us to raid the stills and beer from your land for some stupid dinner party next month. Give me the old time blue grass or an old guitar band any time of the week.”
As one, the Union troops extend their condolences to the Pacifica soldiers.
Immediately afterward, the brawl redoubles in its ferocity.
The most chaotic battle going on stems from the two soldiers being chased by the enraged horses.
One Union trooper starts calling out odds to those who wish to place bets on which man will escape the horses; or how much damage they will sustain when caught…both Sergeants just shake their heads as men break off the fighting and wager a months or more pay on the outcome.
“It’s my turn Randy,” Pearl said with a giggle.
Step by step she moved on top of him, moving her body back and forth in a sensuous, serpentine manner with her pelvis firmly pressing upon his manhood. Bracing herself up on her hands, she teases him with her breasts upon his hairy, muscled chest, drawing a wide smile from him.
Grind by grind she builds up the fires of wild lust and passion within him, causing his eyes to all but cross over into the other socket as his jaw clenches tight. He slams his head back onto the wagon floor repeatedly as the waves of passion burn ever hotter and hotter from within…
Slowly she eases her body downward, resting on her knees, taking up his manhood in her hands. One gentle finger teases it from end to end, sending his hand rapping on the board, one thump flowing into the next faster and faster…
“Pearl you know how to do that so well…”
Gently Pearl blows on his manhood, then takes a bit of her hair up in one hand and teasingly swirls it along the length and upper reaches; she giggles at the sight of Randy’s eyes all but crossing over and smoke flaring out of his ears.
One finger flows up and down in spiraling patterns, drawing moans, groans, and shaking whimpers of pleasure from him as his fists clench and loosen in rapid succession. So powerful are the waves of bliss and animalistic joy running up into his brain he wonders what mush will fill his skull when Pearl is finished…
…assuming he has survived her ever so gentle ministrations by that point.
Both of them hear the hollow thumps and thuds against the wagon sides, leading Randy to wonder if those crazy drays may get inside again, looking for the sugar cubes that are their favored treats.
Another deep thud sound shakes through the wagon…
“Crazy horses,” he says to no one in particular.
“Let them be Randy. We are here for our fun and a swim afterward, then more fun…even when we get back home you still have the others to deal with…or will our three other sisters go disappointed tonight? Do I need to have them all to myself…their soft pink flesh for my own lips to tease and please while you lay here utterly exhausted of your seed?”
“Nope,” he said as her mouth covered his manhood, drawing along its length while her tongue teased playfully in swirling patterns, leading to his breath deepening like the bellows of a massive forge. He sees the eyes of Pearl look at him, the gleaming, coy look telling a story of passions yet to come as he feels his body being brought to the edge of his control…
The next thing he knows Pearl is above him, sliding down upon his manhood yet again, pumping up and down as if there is no tomorrow. Harder and harder she moves, slamming his hips and manhood into a total mush as pleasure mounts upon pleasure, until he finally hits his release and once again sends his life seed into his most beloved sister.
“Again, Randy,” she says, the sweat glistening off her skin and hair, “I am not done yet.”
Randy hears his doom in those words as Pearl moves into action…
High up on a nearby mesa a handful of men, soldiers of the Arizona guard, watch the pandemonium below. No one can make sense of it, as the Union and Pacifica forces brawl and two wild horses pursue some personal vendetta against a couple of Union troops…not that the Arizona Sergeant cares, this is his home, his land and they are BOTH INTRUDERS.
For too long they have ignored his states wishes to be left alone.
Now its time for the payback to begin; they refuse to leave his home alone, turning it into a battle field, so they shall pay.
“Sullivan,” the Sergeant whispered to his best marksman, “do you have the target?”
“Yes sir,” he whispered back; his gaze never leaving the sight of his rifle. “Will be a bit of a tricky shot yet I can get him.”
Looking to the left and right, the Sergeant sees his men raising their own rifles, prepared to fire the instant that Sullivan takes his lead shot.
“Take him down,” the Sergeant ordered.
Gently applying pressure to the trigger, he holds steady on the selected target.
With the firing of the rifle, all eyes watch as the projectile speeds away, ricochet from a rock outcropping, then off a tree, to another rock, off a cast iron skillet a Union soldier has on his backpack, and then hits its target…
Quickly Sullivan begins the task of reloading his rifle, while the retorts of fifteen other rifles erupt to each side of him; then they in turn commence preparations for the next volley.
The Sergeant steadily looks over the growing chaos below, figures of both sides dancing and prancing around; at least twelve hits out of sixteen shots…not bad at all…
“Ready,” he shouts out to the men as they steady their aim upon another gathering of the enemy; this time he exhorts them to do better, to make each shot count ‘against these heathens from the cities and coastal lands, drive them into the rocks as they should be buried beneath.’
“Sullivan as you will,” he gently tells the young fellow.
Sixteen more retorts combine at one as this volley strikes fifteen targets, the one Union soldier with the skillet on his pack saved by it yet again…
Some days it is good to be the shooter and not have the enemy able to return fire…
He feels the soft movement of her lips and tongue along his manhood, teasing out an ever greater wave of raw pleasure. His breathing becomes deeper and deeper, more raw and raspy, while fists begin to clench tighter and tighter…each stroke of her tongue finds the most sensitive spots, while one hand teases his thighs and tickles him across the stomach.
So fierce is the thundering of blood in his head he swears there is a storm in the distance, merging with the raw cries of enraged stallions and desperate men fleeing for their lives...of course he is not sure at times if Pearl just means to drain him dry of life and health as well…she does this so good…
His foot begins tapping out a steady beat on the floor of the wagon as he approaches his climax, she clamps her lips hard around it, stroking faster and faster with both hands now; until in a wild roar his life seed empties into her mouth, which she shows him is upon her tongue before she swallows it down with a relish.
In an instant she goes back to work on him, mouth slurping away to get him ready for the next round of their lovemaking…
He just shakes his head, still amazed at how insatiable of an appetite for sex that Pearl has…
The thundering, screaming, caterwauling cornucopia of noise comes again into his ears as he heads back into the heady Nirvana of pure lust…
Pandemonium redoubles its efforts among the brawling troops as many of the combatants now dive for the nearest cover of rock, tree, shrub or any depression in the ground. Several go diving out into the water and hold their breath for dear life, until the first alligator shows up and sends them screaming back to face the Arizona troopers fire…minus the seat of their britches.
Some troopers grab shrubs and imitate a plant or a tree; another just pulls out a flask of rot-gut whisky, downing it in one long pull.
Of course the two troopers still being chased by the horses pay no attention at all…
Nor does the bookie, now taking wagers on how many people will get their britches shot away…until the second volley hits him where it counts; eyes crossing, mouth grimace in severe shock and pain, and then gently fall forward to the ground mewing like a newborn kitten.
The two Sergeants look around at the carnage, men hit in the seat of the pants or in the more sensitive, frontal position of their manhood with projectiles of rock-salt…
“Blast it already, someone is shooting at BOTH of our men!” the Pacifica Sergeant roars.
“Temporary truce?” the Union Sergeant offers, adding he will get some help in quick order.
“Go for it, these devils want to shoot up both of our sides and expect to get away with it? I’ll see to the injured we have.” He calmly walks off, yelling out that the truce is now in effect and for the wounded to be dragged to cover nearby.
He just shakes his head at the sight of twenty seven men hit with the rock salt…
“Blasted devils here doesn’t fight fair…hope those Union guys can shoot straight for once….”
He hears the Union Sergeant has his bugler sound off a particular stream of notes, calling for his sides artillery to fire upon the mesa top; that has to be where the shooters are hidden…
Watching from the shelter of the mesa top, the Arizona Sergeant observes the carnage below via his telescope; chuckling away at the sight of men dancing about, clutching bottoms or other, extremely sensitive spots with hands as they contemplate opera careers as soprano singers.
The Arizona Sergeant watches through his telescope, observing the carnage of their first salvo. He chuckles at the sight of men dancing about, hands on their bottoms from the stinging pain; or clutching a tenderer spot as they contemplate a future opera career.
“Sergeant,” one lookout cries in near panic, ‘Union artillery deploying off their main line, cavalry is moving into charge formation while the infantry is deploying to the flanks…”
Sixteen Union cannons quickly set up, their experienced crews ramming home powder charges and projectiles for their first salvo; the clarion calls for aid urging them on to ever faster speeds, as they know their brethren are in danger.
Shouts of readiness flow down the line as men move out of the recoil path for the gun carriages; they stand on tip toes, ears covered and jaws open, preparing for the first hammering discharges of their guns…
As one, sixteen gunnery Sergeants shout “FIRE!”
Sixteen tendrils of flame and smoke bellow forth, sending ruin and havoc onto the enemy located up in the mesa rocks…
Nearby, the Artillery Captain looks over his group with growing pride, as a second and a third volley are sent down range in rapid order. He just wonders what they are using for ammo; seeing that there cargo of iron shot was used up during that bar fight a few nights back…
His answer comes a moment later as bands of men rush past; carrying bushel baskets filled with loaves of hard bread and hard tack biscuits. His chuckle at the ingenuity of his men is drowned out by the fourth roaring volley of the guns…
Finally, that lousy brick-like bread of the cook is being put to a good usage.
Atop the mesa men run from cover to cover as a fifth and then a sixth salve slam home into the rocks about them. Shredded clothing hangs from them like multi colored streamers, welts raised on their skin from the stinging blows of bread and biscuit shrapnel…nothing more dangerous than that.
Finally they manage to achieve the shelter of stone as the trail snakes out of sight from the Union cannons; only to allow the small band to see the Pacifica forces stretched out below…
The Sergeant is about to call out orders when the sharp ‘click!’ of a rifle hammer being prepped sounds out; he sees Sullivan taking aim at a target below…
Seeing the results achieved he shows off a wide smile…
“Good job men,” the Arizona Sergeant declared, “let’s go home now.”
The clarion call for a cavalry charge echoes across the mountains, drawing their gazes to the sight of both the Pacifica and Union Cavalry heading into battle with one another…
Colonel Rampart, commander of the Pacifica Bison Brigade and the expedition leader shakes his head at the sight of such carnage inflicted in the middle of his camp. Only moments before his men sent to the watering hole called for reinforcements, then the Union artillery shot up the mesa top for some reason, and then…
The fading echoes of the thunderous detonation mix with the growing wails of despair and grief from his men, one lone shot from the mesa top causing such damage…one shot, responsible for such great loss…
He feels tears flowing down his dust covered cheeks, blurring eyes seeing the sight of men pounding on the ground near the crater where just moments before the wagon carrying their precious supply of beer and moon shine once stood.
“Blast it those Union forces will pay for this violation of the rules of war! They blew up the beer!” His yell cuts across the encampment, turning the wails of grief into calls of vengeance and rage…
Throwing down his feathered fez hat he stomps it flat in a mounting tantrum of anger and pure rage. For six months his men have been fleeing the Union forces for his leaders – the psychotic opera directors, faced dozens of battles and bar fights, angry women and angrier fathers and husbands, just to all but make it home…
And lose everything…oh how he will be made to suffer! Forced to attend thirty or more of the most hideous of performances imaginable – political debates!
“Get ready for the advance! Battle waits for us ahead!” he shouts orders to his men. They race around to make ready their massive Bison Mounts, each one over two tons of muscle and bone; snorting out in anger and pure aggression about to be unleashed upon the Union foes.
Rampart stands next to his kneeling mount, old Fender Bender, the most massive of the bunch at ten tons of pure aggravation. With a leap upward he lands in the saddle, then dismounts, turns around to face the front of Fender Bender and remounts the brute again.
Picking up the reigns he reaches out for the new fez his assistant provides, waves it in the air and smiles at the sight and sound of five hundred great beasts of war and dinner (of the bison failing to survive the conflicts) marching into formation.
For now they will hold the defensive, until the clarion call comes for the charge to set out and go into glorious destruction…
Pearl momentarily stops her tender ministrations upon her brothers manhood, lifting her lips away from it, looking about at the wagon vibrates like a storm approaching.
The deepening thunder builds up from a distance, yet she just ignores it, assuming it is part of the heated blood pounding in her ears; right now getting her brother ready again for action is all that matters, she intends to have as much pleasure with him as possible, until he is drained dry or dies of exhaustion…
Pearl shifts her attention back to Randy’s manhood, stroking it’s length with both of her hands, kneading and teasing it as he groans and moans, eyes crossing and spinning away in their sockets; one intake of breath is so powerful she wondered if he expired, until his fist all but pounded a hole into the floor of the wagon from his building passions.
How she enjoys the soft texture of his manhood’s skin as her tongue runs up and down its length, swirling about the tip, a mixture of salty-sweet flavors, of his life seed from past releases. These combine with the aromas that distinctly mark Randy as MALE, while that of the wagons supplies – spices, flour, herbs and a hundred other sundry goods combined into a heady mixture; the wetness between her legs continues to grow as she rubs both of her thighs together…
Pearl teasingly strokes her cheeks, one side and then the other, repeatedly against it; then she uses her curly bangs to continue the teasing, drawing an ever deepening series of laughs, moans, giggles, grunts and flexing of muscles from Randy.
She climbs upward on him, until her breasts rest on each side of his manhood; then she begins to batter it with both, their side to side motion thumping away, battering him into further submission while she grins like a devil having captured a condemned soul.
“Pearl you will be the death of me yet…” Randy moaned.
Pearl decided some special teasing for him was in store.
She moved over his manhood, as if preparing to slide it into the warm, moist, luscious depths of her body, only to hold off at the last second. Slowly she let her womanhood stroke its tip, playfully keeping just out of reach of the Nirvana promised; sometimes she would ease down on it enough for the hidden folds of her womanhood to part, and then pull away, drawing a constant stream of frustrated groans from Randy.
“You want me to put it in brother?” Pearl asked.
His desperate nod of yes drew another smile to her face.
“Okay, just not down there yet,” she teased him.
Pearl moved back down to where she could minister on his manhood once again with her lips and tongue.
Poor old Randy withstood her tender work, each stroke or lick, each teasing swirl and spiral, kisses and gentle bites of her teeth, driving him wilder and wilder. His body screamed for the desired release of his seed into Pearl, yet she always kept him on the edge, never enough to make the final push of no return occur.
At one point Randy gives out a shrill, whooping, animalistic cry – so savage and keen that it cuts through all the other noise across the mesas and hills for all to hear…
Deciding he has suffered enough, Pearl slips him inside of her once again, a feral smile of wild delight visible as she once again starts her dance of love and lust.
Those loud, keen, clarion calls of the cavalry charge is heard loud and clear by more than the Arizona Sergeant and his men; for both cavalry forces of Pacifica and the Union prepare for battle…
No one places it as a human cry of absolute passion, joy and bliss…
Colonel Rampart of the Pacifica Bison Brigade orders his men to attention; raising his shillelagh overhead, red fez hat glimmering in the sun, the coat a ribald wash of bright, garish coloration that looks like an insane artist painted it (which is true for all of his men’s coats).
He signals the advance at half speed, the snorts and grunts of the massive beasts beneath each man mixing with the slowly growing thunder of their beating hooves. Then they hit three-quarter speed, the range to the Union cavalry closing rapidly until just three hundred yards apart…
Twice he taps his spurs against the bison’s great flanks; sending it into full charge as he maneuvers to line up his first target.
Pacifica forces following at the double pace behind cheer at the sight of five hundred bison preparing to slam into the opposition…
“Colonel,” shouts a nearby rider, “who ordered the charge when you are in command?”
“That’s a blasted good question trooper,” he replied.
Right now battle waits with their enemy of the Union just ahead; he will figure out the rest later on…
From the Union side, Colonel Smith leads the assault with the Unions Composite Mixed Cavalry Brigade that heads off in a valiant charge of horses, mules, burros, camels, and a handful of ostrich’s whose riders chase after as they are quickly thrown off and left far behind…
Thankfully the Generals camel just decided to set down on the ground, refusing to go anywhere as the General kept on slumbering the day away…
The Union artillery Captain ordered his guns moved to support the infantry, and stop any Bison riders that may make it to their lines; and then orders the cooks to stoke up the campfires for a roasted bison feast this very night for all the men…no sense letting them go to waste…
Swiftly the distance closes, ground shaking as the massive forces of flesh and bone prepare to engage…
Two hundred yards becomes one hundred, yells from riders on both sides increase as weapons are prepared…
One hundred becomes fifty…forty…twenty…ten…
Then both groups merge into one mass…
Pearl pumped her body up and down on his manhood as fast as possible, reveling in the raw, fiery bliss that is cascading along her entire being to crash in a full tidal surge of universal sensuality in her brain. Her breathing is coming in hot, hard, raspy gasps pulled one after the other between pursed lips, her eyes glazed, dreamy and focused solely on the here and now; her body demands now only one thing from her, to get him to release his life seed as soon as possible, as much as possible, while another portion of her mind screams for her to shout her joy at the top of her lungs for all the world to hear…
She begins to hear her brother’s continuous grunts and groans, while she begins to cry out in wild joy, each one building upon the other, heightening to the point of being animalistic in intensity and raw passions being loosed.
Step by step her climax builds, shaking and wracking her body with raw fury of the heavens such as she knows only but rarely; then her brother pounds his manhood into her faster, harder and stronger than before as his own climax is building to the culmination point of their union.
“Now, do it now brother…cum inside me…” she shouted.
Bracing her hands on the floor of the wagon for support, she pushed her body to the limit, seeking to drive over the final line of resistance; only to suddenly give out a loud, long, booming series of bugling cries of passionate delight as her climax is achieved.
Randy roars out at the same time as his manhood convulses once, twice and three more times as his life seed is sent deep into her body five times over.
Drenched in sweat, utterly spent, Pearl collapses onto her brother as she feels the wetness of her own climax mix with his on her skin. She softly kisses his lips, nuzzles nose to nose, and lets him wrap her in his arms as the two gasp for air to fuel bodies pushed to utter exhaustion.
Such has been their love making frenzy they still feel their bodies quivering, as if a massive force has been unleashed and cannot be stopped; the pending force of a earthquake, or a charge of bison cavalry, about to cause havoc until it suddenly dissipates into the distance like a storm that has spent its force crosses the horizon.
“Pearl that was something else…you are incredible…” Randy said.
She ran her hands over his chest, feeling the hard muscles, gleaming sweat, and coarse body hair; looking on his face with a truly feral grin…
“As soon as you can get ready brother we are going to do this again; after a swim and something to eat…”
“Pearl you are going to be the death of me yet,” Randy said while shaking his head in disbelief.
“At the least you can claim to have died happy in the afterlife…”
As the ‘bugles’ cry out from the wagon, both cavalry forces sweep past one another without any clash of arms occurring. They swiftly circle back to their own lines, the Union Artillery Captain stomping on his hat, cursing up a blue streak as he so looked forward to a Bison steak tonight…
Both forces withdraw to a line some quarter mile apart, preparing to do battle only on the orders of their own officers, who are now moving to parley with one another…or at the least Colonel Smith is for the Union side as the General is still quite drunk out of his mind.
After a short conference, including the Arizona Sergeant who ambushed both parties a gentlemen’s agreement is established. Both the forces of the Union and Pacifica will go back their own ways, with Arizona guides to get them across the borders as fast as possible; after that, no more forces follow across the borders and leave the people of Arizona alone.
Smith smiled as the Arizona Sergeant walked back to his men, declaring a great victory has been won this day by his valiant men.
Colonel Rampart just shook his head, smiling and chuckling at the sight. Seeing the confused expression on the face of Colonel Smith, Rampart explains that the whole expedition of Pacifica was to obtain a desired set of drink for the Pacifica political leader’s parties and fund raisers.
“Every one of those insane conductors belongs in the cathouses they own and sponsor,” Rampart said.
“I have to agree, this infernal mess due to a request for booze? All this mess inflicted just for that?” Smith felt it was nice that no matter where they served, the brotherhood of soldiers suffers the same across the board.
With that both Colonel’s shake hands, salute and depart.
Soon enough the area around the wagon falls utterly silent and still.
Pearl and Randy emerge for a swim in the water hole.
Only the sight of the two drays holding the torn britches of the two Union troops in their mouths gives any hint of trouble having occurred…
“Randy what do you make of that?” Pearl asked, motioning to the horses.
‘It’s probably nothing to be concerned about at all. They must have found them in the shrubs around here; you know as well as I do Pearl, nothing exciting ever happens with us,” he said.
She agreed as both of the horses snorted in disgust.
Later that night as the Union forces encamp the General manages to briefly rouse. His bleary, clouded eyes flicker here and there at the sight of the camp and the late hour. Adjusting his hat, twirling his handlebar mustache between thumb and finger, he asks why they appear to be heading back for home…
“Colonel,” he shouts, “the enemy is back over that way…”
“General Sir,” Smith responded, “you have forgotten, we reached the water hole, defeated the Pacifica forces and sent them packing. One of the snipers on a nearby mesa creased you with a bunch of rock-salt that left you dazed after ordering the final charge to victory; we won the battle yet a second sniper destroyed the booze we came to recover with a lucky shot.”
Soldiers all around began shouting cheers to the General for his ‘most gallant display of heroism and leading the army to victory.’
As the General assumes the lead position on his camel, wide smile on his face, hat in hand waving in delight a Sergeant rides up next to the Colonel, softly chuckling all the while.
“Colonel Sir,” the Sergeant said, “please remind me never to play poker with you; that is the best explanation of events I have heard to date.”
The laughter of the two men carries far and wide across the land.