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Authors: J. Roberts

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BOOK: The Bisbee Massacre
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They made a cold camp and ate beef jerky while they waited.
 
Manuel returned within half an hour.
“He is staying somewhere in the mountains,” Manuel said. “He has been here two times for supplies.”
“When will he be coming back?” Dodge asked.
“Two or three days, my friend figures.”
“Okay,” Dodge said. “Does he have a place for us to wait?”
“Sí, señor. We may wait, and he will feed us.”
Dodge looked at Clint. “Sounds good to me,” he said.
“Me, too,” Clint said. “I could use some hot food.”
“They have everythin' we need here, señor,” Manuel said. “Food, whiskey . . . and the wimmins.”
“Like I said,” Clint replied. “This sounds like a place we could sit and wait in comfort.”
“Let's go, Manuel,” Dodge said.
“Sí, señor,” Manuel said. “They are cookin' the food for us now.”
They mounted up and rode into town.
FOURTEEN
Manuel had been telling the truth about “the wimmins.” There were thirty men working the mines. The rest of the men and women ran the town, and saw to the needs of their guests—paying guests.
But because Manuel was friends with one of them, he, Dodge, and Clint were catered to for free.
“I told you,” Dodge said. “Once they saw I was the law they would go along with us.”
They were sitting at a table in the house of Manuel's friend, eating enchiladas and beans for supper, and drinking whiskey. There was no beer available.
“They're helping us because of Manuel,” Clint said, “not you.”
“What does it matter what the reasons are?” Dodge asked.
“You're right,” Clint said. “As long as they help us.”
“Sí,” Manuel said, eating happily and eyeing the two young women who were bringing them the food.
The women were, in turn, eyeing Dodge and Clint.
“Manuel,” Clint said, looking at the woman with the big breasts bouncing around inside her peasant blouse, “are either of these women your friend's wife?”
“No, señor,” Manuel said, “no wife.”
“Daughters?”
“No, señor,” Manuel said, with a smile, “no daughters, either.”
“Then . . . what?”
Manuel grinned and said, “Seesters. They are his seesters, señor.”
“Oh.”
The girl with the big breasts leaned over Clint so that he could feel the weight of her on his back and filled his plate with more enchiladas. He looked up at her. This close he could see how pretty she was. She had to be about twenty-five.
The other girl was slender, and younger by a few years. She seemed interested in Dodge, but the lawman was not showing anything in return. Dodge was a handsome man, a double—in fact—for Morgan Earp. It was natural he would attract women, but Fred Dodge always seemed to be more interested in his work.
When the younger girl saw that Dodge wasn't interested, she turned her attention to Manuel, who was only too happy to return the interest.
 
Dodge told Clint to get some rest after they ate.
“I'll take the first watch, Manuel can go second. We might as well go in four-hour shifts, twenty-four hours a day until we nab him.”
“Suits me,” Clint said. “Where are we sleeping?”
“Manuel will show you,” Dodge said. “I think they're puttin' us in different houses.”
Dodge went out to find a good place for them to watch from. Manuel came over to Clint and said, “Señor, you will sleep here.”
“Here?” Clint looked around.
“In this house,” Manuel said. “This is where Luisa lives. I will be next door, in her sister's house.” The man smiled broadly, showing that he was happy with the arrangements.
“Well . . . okay . . .”
“She will be right here to show you to your room,” Manuel said. “I will come and get you when it is your watch.”
“That'll be in eight hours,” Clint said. “I don't think I'll be sleeping that long.”
“We will see, señor.”
Manuel left and Clint finished his coffee, waiting for Luisa to show him to his room. Luisa's brother—Clint didn't know his name—was nowhere in sight as the girl came out of the kitchen.
“Señor?”
“Are you Luisa?” he asked, staring at her big, round breasts.
“Sí, señor. You will be sleeping in my bed.” She put her hand out to him. “Come.”
He took her hand and stood up, allowed himself to be tugged along to her room. It was small, but very clean, and the bed looked good to him after all the time on the trail.
“Is this good for you, señor?” she asked.
“It's fine, Luisa,” he said. “Thank you.”
“If you leave your clothes outside the door I will wash them for you.”
“I'll need them back as soon as possible,” he said.
“Sí, señor,” she said, “that will not be a problem.”
She stared at him, as if expecting him to take his clothes off right there and then, and he stared back.
“I'll leave the clothes outside the door, like you said,” he told her.
“There is some water there, in the pitcher, señor,” she said, indicating the pitcher on the dresser, next to a basin.
“Thank you, Luisa.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you, señor?” she asked.
“You've given me your bed, Luisa,” Clint said. “What more can I ask?”
“Señor,” she said, with a slight bow, and backed out of the room.
Clint went to the bed, pulled the blanket down. The sheets smelled fresh and clean. He undressed to his underwear, put his clothes just outside the door. As a last thought he removed the underwear and put them outside, as well. No point sleeping on clean sheets with dirty underwear.
He went to the pitcher and basin next, poured some water from one into the other. Luisa had supplied a cloth, as well, and he wet the cloth and used it to clean himself from head to toe, including all his crevices. By the time he was done cleaning his genitals he had an erection, probably because he'd been thinking about Luisa the whole time. He stopped before something embarrassing happened, dried himself, then crawled between the sheets.
He fell asleep in seconds.
FIFTEEN
Luisa's younger sister was named Victoria, and she was much more aggressive than her sister. She showed Manuel to her room, and as they entered she reached between his legs and grabbed him.
“Dios mío!” he said, grinning. “You do not play games.”
“I know what I want, Manuel,” she said. She was wearing a simple dress, rather than the peasant blouse and skirt her sister favored. With a shrug she dropped the dress the ground. She was sleek, where her sister was round. Small breasts, slim hips, smooth skin, and she smelled ready. Manuel could see the dark hair between her legs glistening with moisture.
Well, he was ready, too. He quickly removed his boots, trousers, and shirt, and as his erection sprang into view Victoria was on him, dragging him down onto the bed and mounting him.
From that point there was so much grunting and groaning going on that someone outside the room might think there was a fight going on inside.
 
Clint didn't know how much later it was, but he woke to see Luisa slipping into the room, carrying his clothes in a bundle. He was lying on his back. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, but he could feel her looking at him from across the room, and his body responded. In moments his penis was erect, hidden by the sheet that was covering him—but not really hidden.
Eyes still closed he listened for Luisa to leave, but from the sound of it she wasn't leaving. He heard her moving, though, and suddenly her breathing—rapid breathing—was right next to the bed. He debated opening his eyes, but suddenly she was touching him through the sheet, running her hand up and down the length of his hard penis. He wondered what would happen if he did open his eyes. Would she stop? Run out of the room? His body didn't want her to do either of those things.
So he kept his eyes closed, even as she grasped the top of the sheet and peeled it down until it was around his ankles. She made a sound like “Um,” and then he felt her fingers on his cock. She slid her fingertips along the underside, making the organ jump on its own. He felt something on the bed—a knee? Elbow?—and then her tongue was on him.
He moaned and opened his eyes just as she took him fully into her hot mouth. He reached down and cupped her head with his hands.
“I have awakened you?” she asked, after releasing him from her mouth.
“You have,” he said.
“You would like me to leave?”
“I would not.”
She smiled, stood straight up. He watched as she removed first her blouse, then her skirt. She was naked beneath. Her big breasts swayed as she kicked away the skirt, and then she was in the bed with him. She took his hard cock between her big breasts, letting him fuck her between them. She kissed his chest, his stomach, then pressed her breasts against his thighs as she once again took him into her mouth. Her puffy nipples felt like hard little nubs on his skin. Her wet tongue felt like silk.
She sucked him wetly for some time, as he swelled until he thought he would explode. She released him, then climbed astride him and sank down on him, taking him inside. The heat was molten and he groaned as she began to ride him.
The movements of her breasts fascinated him. They bobbled as she rode him up and down, the dark brown nipples dancing in front of his eyes. She had her head back, her eyes tightly shut, and she was biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Her nostrils flared each time she came down on him, and at times she almost snorted.
He brought his hips up to meet her every thrust, still keeping his eyes on those nipples, as if hypnotized by their movements.
Finally, the heat built up inside of him until he couldn't control it. As he exploded into her she cried out and he grunted aloud. She sprawled on top of him and he held her tightly, her pillowy breasts mashed between them . . .
 
Dodge had found a place in front of an abandoned building. It kept him hidden from anyone riding into town from the trail to the north. He might be seen from the south, but as long as he kept his badge beneath his vest he didn't think he'd attract attention.
Manuel relieved Dodge, who told him, “Nothing—haven't seen a soul ride in.”
“I have been told not many riders come here,” Manuel said.
“That must be why they appreciated Dowd's money,” Dodge said. “Where's Clint?”
“He is in Luisa's house.” Even though Manuel had heard sounds that led him to believe otherwise he added, “I believe he is asleep.”
“Where am I sleeping?”
“Come,” Manuel said. They walked a distance and then he pointed. “That house belongs to a man named Arturo Vasquez. He had an extra room. Just tell him who you are, señor. When he sees your badge he will do what he can for you.”
“Okay,” Dodge said. “Thanks. I'll see you later.”
“Sí, señor.”
“If you see Dowd,” Dodge said, “don't try to take him yourself. Come and fetch me and Clint. Savvy?”
“Sí, señor, I understand.”
“Good, good,” Dodge said. “We've been after this man for a long time now. I want to make sure we take him alive and bring him back.”
“Sí, señor.”
Dodge walked to the home of Arturo Vasquez, and was immediately shown to a comfortable bed.
SIXTEEN
Clint buried his face between Luisa's bountiful breasts, inhaled the scent of her skin, and the musk of her sweat. He licked beads of perspiration from her, and found them sweet and salty.
Luisa was on her back, her chubby thighs open to Clint. He nuzzled her breasts, bit her nipples, while he slid his hand down between her legs to cup her bushy black mound.
“Oh,
dios
,” she said, as his fingers delved into the hair and found her wet and slick. He glided his fingers along her wet slit and she caught her breath. He slid one finger inside of her, and then a second. She tensed, then relaxed with a contented sigh.
He couldn't pull himself away from her breasts for some time. This was his favorite part of a woman's body, and Luisa had wonderfully full, heavy ripe breasts with large, brown nipples. He finally had to leave her nipples because he was afraid she'd be too sore to wear her blouse the next day.
He moved down her body, then, kissing her belly, her thighs, rubbing his face along her smooth skin, moving closer and closer to her wet, fragrant pussy. Finally, he removed his fingers and pressed his tongue to her, tasting her, and she jumped and gasped. He began to lick her avidly, lapping up her sweet-salty juices and driving her into a frenzy of passion that went on and on and on, leaving her shaken and exhausted . . .
But he wasn't done with her. Not by a long shot. He straddled her and pressed the spongy head of his hard cock against her pussy. She was so sensitive that she gasped again, her eyes going wide, as he drove himself inside of her, and then she was off again, wave after wave of pleasure flowing over and around her, and through her, as he fucked her at a steady pace, his own eyes closed, chasing his own pleasure while she writhed and moaned beneath him . . .
 
“Señor Clint,” she said, breathlessly, “never before have I known such . . . such pleasure.”
“You're welcome,” he said. “You're quite a woman, too, Luisa.”
“Oh, I was not a woman until now,” she said. “No man has ever made me feel . . . that!”
BOOK: The Bisbee Massacre
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