Cherokee and Heaven

The young cowboy remembered Miss Emma as the tomboy he’d always fought with, but even tomboys grow up.

 

(MF) caution

By: Punchinello for Pulp Erotica

 

Utah, 1886

John Everet Cooper rode into the Lazy M Ranch with thunder under the hooves of his stallion Cherokee. The dry day yielded only choking dust for the hard rider until he reined his horse in at the steps of the Miles house.

Emma stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, one black boot brought up flat against it. She wore black leather chaps over blue jeans and a black bandana around the collar of her over-sized white shirt. She took off her black hat and shook her equally black curly hair.

“Whacha need, John?” she called in listless tone. She and John Cooper hadn’t been on the best of terms since they were kids.

“I’d like your father to lend of couple of his hands for a few days. I need to mend some fences.” His tone was slightly formal, with an air of precision.

Emma came out of the doorway and stood at the edge of the porch. She brushed back her hair to put her hat on and then pushed it way back on her head. She looked up at him, squinting slightly, “Come down off that horse.” It was her way of inviting him in.

John dismounted and tied Cherokee up. As he approached the steps, he too pushed his hat back on his head. “Is your pa in, Emma?"

“He’s out in the field awhile yet with his hands. He ought to be back in before sundown.” Henry Miles was a farmer as well as a rancher. He had a big spread that stretched all the way to the Cooper land, where John raised horses. When there were fences to mend, they usually helped each other mend them. Henry was a smart man, and he had a lot more friends than he had enemies.

“It’s a couple hours to sundown, maybe I’ll go find him, if you’ve got some idea where he is.”

Emma wet her lips and stuck her thumbs in belt straps of her chaps. “No idea. Could take ya a whole day to find him.” She was right.

“Well,” John said, looking around and trying to decide what to do. Emma didn’t make it any easier on him. “Well, maybe I could wait for him.”

Emma nodded, “I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.” She turned toward the door; John followed. Then Emma stopped abruptly and turned back around. John almost ran into her. The dark-eyed girl stepped up very close and took hold of his pistol.

“Check your gun, John.” She pulled it out and put it down on a porch chair. Then she went inside. John looked down at it, frowning. Then he followed her inside. “Pa’s got a couple a new hands working for him lately,” the slender woman said.

After a cup of coffee and a couple of biscuits, they talked about the subject dearest to both their hearts: horses. Emma had loved horses since she was a child and had bought her own palomino filly from John. She had been there at its birth and had overseen its raising—it was the first time they hadn’t fought since they were kids. John had even been let her name it: Heaven.

“Heaven will be ready for a stud soon, John,” Emma said. “You gonna let Cherokee get a foal on her?”

“If you like,” John said casually.

“Cherokee’s a fine horse. He’d be a fine stud, I’ll bet.”

Only when they realized it was near dusk did they wonder about where Emma’s father was. John built a fire in the fireplace and volunteered to ride out to find him but Emma insisted that one of the hands would have come in to tell her if her father had been hurt. They finally decided that he must have decided he was too far out to bother riding back that evening and decided to sleep out under the stars to get an early start the next morning.

“He’s done it before,” Emma said. “It reminds him of his cattle driving days.”

“I reckon I ought to be going then,” John said, rising to leave.

“I suppose you ought to,” Emma agreed, a certain reluctance hanging in her words. “Pa won’t be back ‘til late tomorrow.”

“Thank you for the biscuits and the coffee, Miss Emma,” John said. “It was fine meal.”

Emma bristled, her dark eyes flashing. “A fine meal, John Cooper? That was no meal at all! I don’t make biscuits and coffee for supper, you know.”

John straightened, wringing his hat in his hands. “I didn’t mean to say that that was all you could make...”

“You sit yourself back down, John Cooper,” Emma said over her shoulder as she glided into the kitchen again. “I’ll cook you up a fine meal.”

“Oh I don’t think I should stay,” John protested. “I shouldn’t ought to put you out like this.”

“I’ve got to make some kind of supper, Mr. Cooper,” she answered. “And I’ll be damned if a man goes out of my house in the evening without a proper meal in his belly.”

In short order, Emma fixed a fine supper. By the time they had finished, night had fallen.

“Well, you can’t go out now, John,” Emma said. “I’ve kept you too long waiting for pa. But we have a guest bunk,” she said, picking up a lamp. “You can bed down there. In the morning you’ll find I can cook a proper breakfast too.”

“You’re quite a woman, Emma,” John said. “Dress or no dress, you’re quite a woman.” He looked her up and down; she hardly seemed the tomboy he had fought with as a kid—except for the mannish clothes.

Emma rose and came around the table. “I don’t need a dress to be a real woman, John. I’m flesh and bone like any other female. I’ve got all the right curves.” And she did, altho her slim body was less curvaceous than some of the soft, pale women who tried to catch John’s eye in town.

“Yes, Emma,” John said. “You sure do.”

“I’m going to bed now, John. I’ll see you in the morning. Come on. I’ll show you that guest bunk.”

“This is awful hospitable of you, Miss Emma. I hate for you to go out of your way like this. I’ll just sleep over by the fire.”

“Suit yourself.” She pulled a blanket and pillow from a chest against the wall. “You need anything else, let me know.” She stood silhouetted against the fire, her slender form looking like a willow in the twilight.

“You sure are a pretty sight in this light, Emma. Even if you do look more than a bit like a boy.”

Emma smiled wryly and stood up straight to face him. “What would make me look more like a woman, John? Would it help if I took off these dungarees...and put on a skirt?”

“That would be a start.”

“What else?”

“Come here, you little tomboy.” He grabbed her and pulled her to him.

“You think you’re man enough to make a woman out o’ me, cowboy?”

“Twice the man I need to be.” His mouth descended on hers, and she took his tongue inside.

She ran her hands up his back and ran her fingers thru his dark hair. “Oh, John, you’re makin’ me burn up inside.”

John stroked the back of her neck and kissed her throat. He undid the top button on her shirt, and the next, and the next, until her breasts spilled out, small and pointed. He kissed each hard nipple and then caressed them as he kissed her throat, cheek, and lips again. She pulled off his shirt and stroked his hairy chest, kissing him again and again. “I want it now, John,” she whispered huskily, lowering herself to the rug. “Here, in front of the fire.”

He kissed her and did away with her shirt. It parted to reveal her completely. “Take off my jeans,” Emma murmured. John unfastened the button and slid her zipper down her crotch. “Mmmmm,” she moaned softly as his hand slid down inside and cupped her moist womanhood thru her white panties. “That’s good.”

 “Take off your boots,” John ordered.

“Mmmm, yes sir,” Emma cooed. She kicked off one boot and offered the other to John, who pulled it off in one motion. Off came her stockings as well, her bare feet slender and warm in John’s hands.

Then John groped his way up to her waist again and slid Emma’s pants down her slender legs, panties and all. Emma heaved a sigh. “Ohh, yes,” she breathed.

He kissed her nipples, stomach, and down her pelvis. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he said.

She answered back, “Oh, John, I wanted you to do it...please do it.” Her naked body arched toward him, offering her dark bush.

John pressed his head between her quivering thighs and spread her pink lips. He slipped his tongue into her wet gash and lapped up the sweet juice. “OH! OH! YES!” Emma gasped. She panted and moaned again and again, begging for more, begging for utter satisfaction.

John’s tongue tasted the sex juice of Emma’s pink pussy over and over, making her groan with pleasure and squeeze and pull the nipples of her small tits. At last, Emma couldn’t take anymore. She arched her back again, tossing her head from side to side, and cried out, “OH, GOD! JOHN! YES! Oh yes! Hunh, unh! OHHH!” Her slender tomboy frame was wracked with orgasmic pleasure, her naked body glistening with perspiration in the firelight.

Emma pulled him up to her and kissed him deeply, tasting her own pussy on his lips and tongue. John held her naked form against him, feeling all her soft curves. Emma moved against him, grabbing at his muscular backside thru his jeans.

“Let’s get these off, stud.” She unbuckled his belt and pushed down his pants. She moved down his body and tugged off his boots, tossing them onto the sofa and pulling off his pants entirely. She slid back up his length and into his arms, kissing and caressing.

“I want it inside me now,” Emma whispered. She pulled down the shorts that his stiff prick was threatening to break thru, revealing his raging, red erection. “Oh, John, honey,” she breathed, taking the warm shaft in her hands and stroking it gently. “I want to ride you like a cowgirl.”

They stood up and went to a footrest that stood in front of a wingback chair near the fire. John sat down, his stiff cock jutting out eagerly. “Come on, darlin’” he murmured. Emma came into his arms with a smile, naked and still flushed with orgasm.

She mounted him slowly, lowing herself gradually onto his long, straight dick. “Oh yes,” she moaned as his cock slid deep into her hot, wet hole.

“Oh, Emma,” John groaned. “Oh, that pussy’s sweet. Oh, God.”

Emma sat down firmly, taking his whole cock inside her with a shuddering moan. She raised herself again just a little and sat down again, taking his cock impossibly deep inside her, feeling his hairy balls against ass.

John met her with gentle upward thrusts and bent to suck her hard nipples. He kneaded her small breasts with his strong hands as she gripped his shoulders. “Oh, oh, yes,” he moaned.

“Fuck me, John,” Emma begged, “Fuck my body hard.” He pushed up into her harder as she quickened her pace, bouncing heavily on his lap, taking his cock up and down. At last she cried out to him. “Yes! Oh God, yes! Harder! YES! YES, JOHN! YES!”

“I’m coming,” he moaned. “Oh God, Emma! You perfect pussy! UNH! UNH! OHH!” They cried out together as his juices spurted into her warm, wet hole, his balls erupting in lusty pleasure as she slid over the edge into ecstasy for the second time that evening.

Emma collapsed against him; her bare tits pressed against his hairy chest. “You gonna be my girl, now, Emma? And stop going around dressed like a boy?”

“I don’t know if I want— OH!” John bucked hard, jamming his big dick deep inside the pretty tomboy again.

“Well, I think I might have a dress or two I could start wearin’,” she grinned.