I have tried to make my grammar and vocabulary suit the era and the setting as much as possible. I don't think I was too successful with it. I didn't want it to be too hokey. But, you're the judges. Let me know what you think. Comments and votes are always appreciated.
All participants in the sexual activity are over the age of 18.
There is minimal sex in this chapter.
*****
My cum stopped flowing, probably sooner than I thought since I lost all sense of time with these goings on going on. Ma licked what cum on her face she could reach with her tongue. She used her fingers to gather up what she couldn't reach.
"Ma, does that taste good? Rick's stuff?"
"Yes, honey, it tastes very good. Do you want a taste?" asked Ma, holding a cum covered finger up to my sister.
Very tentatively, Sissy leaned down to lick my cum from my mother's finger.
"Do you like it?" I asked.
"It's kinda okay," Sissy responded.
Ma cleaned us all up with the towel. It was full on dark by this time so we picked our way back to the house careful not to trip. I slept in the bed that night. So did Ma.
We were off for town early the following morning. I had hooked up the buckboard to our single horse which trudged down the trail that would eventually intersect with a major trail that ran between our nearest town and the major town a few days travel away. We had a good horse, a gelding, seventeen hands high, but it wasn't a fan of wagon hauling.
Traveling in the country was not generally dangerous those days but a man needed to be wary. Trouble could pop up at any time. Keeping my head on a swivel, I was on guard for that dangerous occurrence.
I saw a dust cloud behind us almost as soon as we hit the main trail. I kept a close eye on the quickly advancing cloud that indicated someone riding behind us at a faster pace than our horse was pulling our wagon.
Soon enough, the source of the cloud became evident. It was a buckboard wagon being hauled by two horses. It belonged to people we knew as our neighbours. They were fortunate enough to own two horses which explained their overhauling us.
When they were close upon us, I stopped the wagon to await them. Exchanging greetings on the open trail was the neighbourly thing to do. While waiting for the last few yards of travel, I poured water from our canteen into my hat, giving our horse a drink.
On the other wagon seat were a man and woman. I expected there to be three since the family consisted of a father, mother, and son. I raised my hand in a friendly greeting.
Once stopped right behind us, the three women gathered together to chatter away, leaving the son and I to catch up as well. The son, Jimmy by name, also took the opportunity to water their horses. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the three women embracing each other, tears rolling down their faces.
"I guess they told your mother about losing my father," I said to Jimmy.
Jimmy's eyes widened.
"You lost your pa? So did we!" exclaimed the other son.
"Really? What happened?" I asked.
"He was mauled by a catamount, we suspect. He came back to the house barely hanging on to his saddle, ripped to ribbons."
Cougars did not often attack men on horses but if they felt threatened, or trapped, they would strike out with their long, vicious claws. Few men could repel such an attack. The cougars were generally large and strong. Even a gunshot would often be insufficient to stem the charge of a maddened cougar.
We both sadly exchanged the detail of our fathers passing while watching the women slowly cease their caterwauling. Once everyone was placid, we continued to the now near by town.
With our horses and wagons hitched close together, the first things we each accomplished, Jimmy and I, was to tend to the horses. Giving them more water and a bait of grain, we were acknowledging the need to take proper care of our horses. They were a valuable commodity and not a resource to be wasted.
Even in town, constant vigilance was needed. Unconsciously, both Jimmy and I, standing side by each, looked around the one street town. You just never knew what you might find or who you might see. The few towns in our part of the country attracted a mixed lot of travelers.
You would think our town had nothing to bring people through it. But, that wasn't the case. The town had the mercantile store, a tent hotel, a saloon, a public barn and corral, as well as a blacksmith forge. Of course, there were a few houses. The main draw was, naturally, the saloon followed closely by the store.
Saloons were not simply places for drinking and carousing. They were the general meeting place of the surrounding area. News of the goings on in the near countryside as well as the far country to the east, was exchanged here. Trail conditions, native uprisings, and major events would all be told and retold to visitors.
Travelers were a mixed lot. They could be local families like ours or families on the move further westward yet needing more supplies or a smithy. Cowboys working their herds eastward to the steam car shipping points and even some gunslingers might drift through.
Not all travelers were nice people. Some could be generally described as truly evil in nature, looking for some method of taking advantage of anyone they encountered.
Law was virtually non-existent in our part of the country which was not uncommon. For the most part, the law was enforced by vigilantes and ropes, or by men with guns. The code was fairly straightforward but often applied quickly and without due consideration. Sometimes, it was even delivered frantically.
Looking around, Jimmy and I simultaneously focused on a trail worn drifter lurching his way through the doorway from the saloon. He glared at us for a moment before planting his ass on a bench outside the saloon. His attention left us and went to rolling a cigarette.
Not wanting to miss the opportunity to check out the store and any new merchandise the store might have received, Jimmy and I joined our womenfolk. The storekeeper and his wife were very occupied with fulfilling our women's requests leaving Jimmy and I to browse.
There was not an ugly woman in the store. The shopkeeper's wife was extremely attractive. Dressed in a typical gingham dress, hiding much of her figure, she had a very pretty face. She was also carrying a loop of rope over her shoulders. The loop fell between her breasts moulding the dress to her boobs. They were big and inviting. I looked away quickly as I did not want to be caught peering at her.
With all the supplies purchased, both families began to haul them out to the wagon. The drifter was still sitting on the bench outside the saloon. He was paying a great deal of attention to the women carrying out the loads. He was making me uncomfortable. Seeing a scowl on Jimmy's face, and his glances across the street, I recognized he was feeling much as I was.
Finally, with both buckboards fully loaded, the two families headed off in tandem. It was getting late in the afternoon and I was concerned about getting home before dark. I pushed the pace of our poor horse as much as I could. No matter my hurry, I couldn't risk exhausting the horse.
After a couple of stops to rest and water the horses, we eventually came to the fork in the trail that led to our home. It was getting to be dark with the sun settling over the mountains to the west of us. We were less than an hour away from our homestead.
Jimmy and his family still had a good five or more hours ahead of them before they could reach their ranch. I suggested they stay the night with us. Jimmy and I could bed down in the barn while the women slept in the house. My suggestion was gratefully received by the other family.
