Moccasin Bluffs

Lost in a deeper dream, Laurel touched herself boldly. His breath caught as her feet parted slightly, one hand maintaining her balance in the water and the other moved between her thighs. Deliberately a single finger sunk deeper. Into the water? Into her body? His answer appeared as the cool depths agitated, her back arched more and an amazed cry rang out while she floated in her liquid play.

Laurel struggled to pull her shaking legs back down to the rocky creek bottom. Regaining her footing and breathing, she began to explore the size, weight and sensitivity of her breasts, learning what they could teach her. Her head drooped as her hands became those of another and fingers changed into imagined teasing lips and tongues.

Urgently she moved to the bank, placing her foot on a rock; completely submitting to her needs. Both hands crept down her belly, touching and measuring, and then slid her lips between them using the base of her thumbs to alternately stroke her swollen nub. Flashing, fluid fingers slipped inside and her body shuddered. Laurel gyrated against her hand, fingers rubbing her clit faster and harder. Her scream of release echoed along the creek as her orgasm smothered her like a dust storm.

What the stranger thought he would see was nothing compared to the reality of a girl finding a woman’s fire! The man had his cock in hand when Laurel moved to the bank. Working his shaft, the man’s breathing coarsened. His state of sexual frenzy kept apace with hers. Watching the girl coax her climax sent his hands to use every stroke and touch he knew and carried him reeling into his own dark void of pleasure.

Then it was over – a shared but solitary sexual journey.

Oblivious to his surroundings, the bearded man noticed nothing until he heard a loud yelp somewhere close to the girl. Running hard, yelling and laughing along the edge of the creek was another man dodging someone on horseback. The runner had shouldered a gunnysack rattling with silverware in his dash to escape.

The sound first frightened Laurel then she leapt out of the creek and reached for her shotgun. But the thief had reached it first and then grabbed her by the arm making her his shield.

The man on horseback, Sheriff Dawson, saw what happened and knew that the drunken thief could hurt Laurel. Slowly he dismounted, walked his horse forward and began speaking calmly to the man.

Meanwhile, a naked Laurel remained still trying not to agitate the thief. Her lips were set in a firm white line. Sheriff Dawson, despite how he tried, couldn’t ignore the naked perfection that was Laurel McIntosh.

Out of the corner of his eye, the lawman saw a bearded stranger slipped quietly along the creek to cautiously circle behind the thief. Realizing what the stranger was attempting, the sheriff continued demanding that the scoundrel allow Laurel to dress, even as Dawson himself moved closer. Once the thief understood what the sheriff was doing, the fugitive knew, even in his drunken state, that if he let loose of the girl all hell would break loose.

Grabbing her more tightly, the drunk took advantage of the trapped girl and began roaming a hand over her body – mauling, pinching and pulling. His mouth left a trail of tobacco-stained spittle on her neck and face. Laurel hadn’t moved during the humiliating plunder as she struggled to keep her lately stimulated body from responding. Finally, the stinking, sweat-soaked thief stopped his obscene behavior.

The sheriff was ready to shoot the coward, but Laurel was in the way. The bearded man was enraged at what the thief had done to the woman whom he now considered his. Moving faster, the stranger became careless and at the last moment stepped on and broke a branch. The thief reeled around at the noise just as the bearded man threw his body towards the bandit but not before the shotgun was fired. The stranger had been wounded and the drunk fell to the ground, hitting his head on a rock, sprawled and unconscious.

Taking no chances, Laurel grabbed the shotgun then quickly jerked on a dress. Dawson ran up and saw that the criminal was otherwise unharmed. Next he examined the bearded man lying near the thief. Even in the twilight, blood could be seen seeping from his arm.

The sheriff dragged and tied the thief to a tree while Laurel snatched up the towel and wrapped the stranger’s arm. Even though bleeding moderately, his wound was minor just having caught a couple of pellets. Laurel and Dawson helped the man stand even as she studied her rescuer.

In a flash, she realized he was the source of the footprints in the garden, the reflections of light on Moccasin Bluffs and that he had to have seen her at the creek to be close enough to save her! Flushing deeply, Laurel sized up his appealing features and the height of his work-hardened body. But it was the combination of his valiant charge to save her and the look in his dark brown eyes that left her feeling “all twitchy”.

Sheriff Dawson knew that Laurel was still shaken but night was falling and he had to get his prisoner back to town.

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