Unknown - Sex in the wild wild west

The Colonel's assistant, Major Bromley, was a portly man. Not much good for anything, but he could thump a bible with the best of them. I don't think he'd ever been in the war, but he was the Colonel's assistant, so I guess that's where he got the title. Agnes, his wife, was almost as big around as he was. At least she had been when we'd left St. Louis. But a month on the road was starting to slim her down already, and the hornier I got, the better she was starting to look. To be honest, she didn't really look that bad anyway, but losing another 20 or 30 pounds wouldn't hurt her. Like a lot of heavy women, she had a very pretty face and was really quite attractive, despite her girth. She was Angela's assistant and made damn sure the rest of the women stayed in line.

The rest of the Colonel's following consisted of Ned and Maggie Smith, Bob and Priscilla Parker, and three single women, Mabel, Lucille and Rachel. Oh, and Matt and me of course.

If it hadn't of been for the drab clothes they wore every one of the women, even fat Agnes, would have turned heads anywhere she went. I don't know if beauty was one of the Colonel's prerequisites to join the group or not, but it sure seemed that way. After Angela, Priscilla was my favorite. But Bob was a giant of a man and I was afraid he had a jealous streak to match his strength. At any rate, he was big enough that I didn't want to take the chance. All of them were lookers. It was just too bad they wore those ugly clothes.

It turned out that their ugly clothes were a requirement. The Colonel's brand of Christianity required the women to be excessively modest in everything they did. So they all wore plain black skirts that swept the ground. Their matching blouses had long sleeves and a high collar that fit high around the neck. And no makeup of course. On special days they'd decorate themselves with a bit of white lace.

Matt and I had been picked to join the group at the last minute. Matt because he could speak Sioux and was good with a gun and me because I could drive the wagons and knew my way across the desert and the mountains. But neither of us had ever really fit in. The Colonel and his group were bringing Christianity to the heathen Indians, but Matt and I just wanted to get laid. The two of us had long talks and we'd of both given almost anything to get under some of those skirts, but we also knew it would be worth our jobs to even try.

The closest I ever got to any of them was one afternoon after we'd camped near a stream. I'd snuck away to get a couple hours of sleep while they set up camp, and found a dandy place on a high rock overlooking the stream, but out of everybody's sight. I guess I'd been up there for about half an hour when I was woken up by the women laughing as they walked down to the stream. Curiosity beat out my need for sleep and I peered over the edge of the rock to see what they were doing. All thoughts of sleep disappeared when they all peeled off their black dresses and started washing them in the stream. And they made quite a sight, kneeling there in their white bloomers and stays. The good Christian boy my mamma raised would have backed out of there and never said a word to anyone, but I'd long since outgrown that shit. I just knew that I was finally going to get a chance to see what they really looked like.

It wasn't long before Angela stood up, stripped off her undies and dove cleanly into the water. The rest of them followed right behind her. I knew better than to try and sneak any closer; I'd get caught for sure, and that would mean my job. Even at that distance, I could make out their well shaped tits and the darker spot at the juncture of their thighs. With a fertile imagination like mine, just watching them gave me enough memories to last a good long while.

I just couldn't figure these bible thumpers out. They'd all given up comfortable lives back east, just so they could bring civilization to the heathen Indians. Now here we were, camped at the foothills of the Rockies and the heathens were about to tell us that they didn't want our fucking civilization.

Our camp had been overrun during the night. I'm not sure how, I think Bromley had gone to sleep or something, but I really don't know. Gromley and Ned Smith had both been killed trying to defend the camp, but it had been useless. With those two dead, there were only four of us men against about a hundred Indians. It was over in a hurry, and now we were sitting with our wrists and ankles tied, under the watchful eyes of those heathens we were going to civilize.

Then their Chief addressed us. I was amazed that he spoke better English than I did. He gave us a long speech about how he had been taken east as a child and raised in New York, but eventually he had gotten fed up with the white man's ways and come back to his people. The one thing he did miss though was the burlesque shows. Indian women just couldn't get the hang of it. So he was going to have our women put on a little show for all of us to enjoy. After the show was over, they'd keep what they wanted and the rest of us could go on about our business.

I have to admit, I thought it was a pretty good deal. We were going to get out with our lives and it sounded like we were going to get to see the women strip as well. I hadn't had a woman since we'd left St. Louis over two months ago, and every one of these was a good looker. Even the fat one had started to look better as the trip wore her down. If the Indians kept any of the women, well, them's the breaks. At least the rest of us would still be alive.

Major Bromley, however, was having none of it. He was at his bible thumping best. "No, no," he screamed. "You can't force them to do that! These are good Christian women! They'll die before they'll submit to your bestial demands!"

The Chief nodded at one of his henchmen. One round from Gromley's pistol and Bromley joined Ned and Matt, face down in the dirt.

"Is there anyone else who objects to my program?" the Chief asked.

Needless to say, the Colonel, Bob Parker and I just sat there.

The Indians formed a circle and the ladies were led into the center of it. While we had been sitting there, some of the squaws had been supervising them while they had been getting dressed. And they did look nice – even in their black skirts. They were all wearing plenty of lace and had on full petticoats. Each one of them looked like she was ready for a night on the town and it wasn't even 9 in the morning yet.

One item of apparel I know wasn't in their bags. They were each wearing a collar with a leash attached and they each had a squaw to lead them around. One quick turn around the circle to show us their finery and they were led to a small knoll overlooking the circle. Out of the way, but they could see everything that went on.

Then the Chief called Mrs. Broaddus to the center of the circle. First he apologized for the quality of the music, but there was only so much you could do with a tom-tom.

"Now do not try my patience Mrs. Broaddus. I expect you to dance until we get tired of watching you. You might have to take all your clothes off."

"All my clothes? Then I'd be naked? Naked? You expect me to strip naked? The Colonel's never seen me naked. No! There's no way that I am going to bare myself for you."

"I didn't say you were going to have to. I only said that I expected you to dance until we got tired of watching, and that you might have to take all your clothes off. I'm going to ask you one more time, Mrs. Broaddus. Are you going to dance for us or not?"

"I certainly am not! The nerve! To think that I would even consider disrobing in front of you…"

The Chief didn't say another word. The squaw dropped the leash and Angela looked around for someplace to escape to. I don't know where she thought she was going to go, but it didn't matter. Two of the Indians grabbed her by the arms and held her in the middle of the circle. Then the squaw grabbed Angela's dress at the neck and literally ripped it off of her. Another rip and her petticoats joined the ruined dress. A screaming, blushing Angela was revealed to us in her bodice, bloomers and stockings.