Chapter 4 Ernie the Weasel: Bare Knuckles and Bare Breasts
Chapter 4 Ernie the Weasel: Bare Knuckles and Bare Breasts
When he reached the black stallion, Jack led Cyclone over to the horse
trough by the corral and let his magnificent mount drink his fill. He had just
lashed the reins to the top rail of the corral and grabbed his thick saddlebag,
when he thought he saw something moving in the distance out on the long lonely
road that dead-ended at the Wilson ranch. Jack quickly drew his gun and
concealed his lanky frame as best he could behind his horse. The tiny speck in
the distance seemed to shimmer in the broiling Texas sun as it approached.
Jack's liberty depended on his caution and he stood silent vigil as the distant
image slowly darkened and grew into the shape of a man on horseback. The horse
was still some fifty yards away when Jack's keen reptilian eye recognized its
rider.
"Ernie!" he called out, when the horse and rider pulled up to him alongside
the corral. "What the hell took you so long! I got here more'n an hour ago."
The man Jack had addressed as Ernie climbed down from the saddle atop his
worn-out-looking appaloosa. He was covered from head to foot in the loose dust
that swirls continually around the flatlands of west Texas. In Ernie's case the
sweltering heat of the day seemed to have baked the dust on him permanently.
Ernie Gibbs was a skinny, shifty-eyed little weasel of a man, almost a foot
shorter than the rangy Slocum. The Mexicans back in San Antone' had called him
"El Raton", the Rat, in tribute to both his ferret-like features, and his sneaky
underhanded ways.
Jack had known Ernie Gibbs since they were both no taller than an Arkansas
razorback. They had grown up in east Texas and bounced around on both sides of
the law for years, sharing little more than a craving for easy money and easier
women. They were a strange pair in some ways -- the tall and taciturn Slocum,
and the diminutive, garrulous Ernie Gibbs. Jack never did much talking,
preferring to let his actions, and often his fists, speak for themselves. But
Ernie was a chatterbox, much given to pissing and moaning and whining when
things didn't go his way. Which they rarely did, since he was lazy and ignorant
and as ill-tempered as a rattlesnake. Ernie could rattle on for hours, about
most anything, but preferably himself -- and most of that was usually lies.
Ernie liked to brag that he had shot and killed six men, but those that
knew him well reckoned that he'd really only killed two, and they knew for a
fact that he'd shot both of them in the back. The way Ernie Gibbs told it, he
was quite a lady-killer, too, but his only real friend, Black Jack Slocum,
couldn't remember ever seeing the sawed-off little bastard with a woman he
hadn't either coerced or paid for. Black Jack had long since developed an
eye-rolling twitch whenever Ernie started in on his legendary prowess with the
ladies, knowing he was going to be treated to another story about as believable
as a campfire yarn about Pecos Bill.
But there was one thing this pair of cold-eyed hombres did have in common
-- they shared a taste for fine-looking women and rough sex. They had teamed up
more than a few times for the purpose of blindfolding and abducting some
unsuspecting Texas belle, carrying her off to a lonely campsite in the woods or
an abandoned cabin and keeping her for a few days of good old Texas tussling.
If the woman played her cards right, and came across with the proper enthusiasm,
sometimes they didn't rough her up too bad; but they almost preferred the ones
that fought like wildcats. Cause when a girl with spirit put up a little
resistance, that gave them an excuse to hang her from a tree limb or tie her to
a fence post and work her over good. And as long as they made sure they were
far enough out of town that her screams couldn't be heard -- and that the
blindfold stayed on -- their occasional abductions had always worked out pretty
well.
Until Ernie had talked Jack into helping him rape that Mexican gal that
had pissed him off; she had lived just outside of town and after all, who'd
ever heard of a white man going to jail in Texas for raping a senorita? If it
had only been Ernie's and Jack's word against that chica's they'd have gotten
off scot free for sure. But that damn Honey Wilson had to come along at the
wrong time...
Besides their shared fondness for rope, leather, and young female flesh,
though, and notwithstanding Ernie's flair for dishonesty of all kinds, Big Jack
owed Ernie plenty. It was Ernie who had smuggled the knife into the prison in
Amarillo a month or so ago. The knife Jack had used to ambush the guard and
make his escape.
And it was Ernie who had tracked Honey Wilson down after her parents had
left San Antone' after Jack's trial and moved further west. And so, for all his
infuriating ways, Jack kind of looked out for Ernie as an older brother might a
younger. And Ernie had always looked up to Jack because he was good-looking in
a rugged sort of way, and thus a magnet for a certain class of womenfolk. Ernie
trailed along after Jack like a coyote behind a wolf, often taking his pleasure
from what was left of the women after Jack got done with 'em. There was one
other thing about Jack that Ernie liked -- Jack didn't talk all the time like
some damn fools. Ernie didn't like bein' interrupted much.
As Ernie ambled toward him, Jack noticed that his face was all puffy and
swollen and his left eye sported a large shiner. "Geesus, what happened to you,
Ern? You look like you tried to stop a runaway stagecoach with your face."
"Howdy, Jack. Where is she? Did you get her?" the scrawny little man asked
impatiently, wiping a greasy strand of his long scraggly brown hair back from
his face. Ernie's eyes were a queasy shade of grayish-green, and they
constantly darted around furtively, suspiciously. Ernie was as volatile as an
Oklahoma twister and he had the sort of disposition that could get pissed off at
the sight of a jackrabbit or a change in the wind's direction. As usual, he had
a huge plug of chewing tobacco in his mouth.
"Yeah. She's here. Christ, she's a looker now, ain't she? Just like you
said."
Ernie spat a stream of brown juice in the direction of the corral gate and
looked up at the taller man slyly. "Would I lie to you, Jackson?"
"Not unless there was a nickel in it for you," Jack laughed in his gruff
voice. "I got her in the barn over yonder, now. She wasn't exactly pleased to
see me," he smirked. "Can't imagine why. We was just gettin' acquainted-like,"
Jack gave Ernie a lecherous leer, "when I come out to get my saddlebag. But
what happened to your face, partner? 'Did you get put in charge of leadin' a
cattle stampede and fall down?"
Jack turned away with a hearty chuckle, until he saw out of the corner of
his that Ernie had pulled out his gun and was pointing it directly at him.
"Geesus, Ern! Put that goddamn thing down!"
"I've shot bigger sons-a-bitches than you, Jack Slocum; nobody fucks with
Ernie Gibbs."
"You ain't shot shit, and you know it! Come on, I was just funnin' ya.
Tell you what," Jack continued, anxious to cool his hot-headed partner down,
"I'll let you have first crack at her. Now put that damn gun away. And tell me
who fucked up your face."
Ernie wrinkled his brow. "First crack at that juicy blonde in there? Now
yer talkin', Big Jack," and he slid the gun back into its holster as if nothing
had happened. "Well, it was like this, big fella. I come on down here to keep
an eye on her, just like you tole me, to make sure she didn't run off or
nothin'. "
Ernie had turned in the direction of the barn where Honey awaited them.
"Shit, Jack, that long-legged little brat grew up into one hell of a
fine-lookin' filly! She's still got that pretty blonde hair, but now she's got
a body that won't quit, too! She's the biggest fuckin' tease I ever seen, too,
Jack, I swear to God. And it was her teasin' that got me beat up. By her
daddy's goddamn cowpokes."
Ernie was striding impatiently toward the barn, now, as Jack loped along
behind, his saddlebag over his shoulder. When the Rat opened the door, and saw
the shapely half-naked young blonde hanging by a rope from the rafter he stopped
dead in his tracks. "Hot damn, Jack! You sure didn't waste any time, didja?"
And when Honey saw Ernie she recognized the creepy little Peeping Tom that
had hired on a few months back. A few nights after he'd signed on, she thought
she had seen someone lurking outside her bedroom window while she undressed one
night. She had mentioned the prowler to her pa, but she hadn't really gotten a
good look at him.
But one night, not long before Jack busted out of jail, Honey somehow
sensed the eyes of a stranger on her body while she stood admiring her nude
young figure in the full length mirror that graced her bedroom. Unluckily for
Ernie, just as she turned toward the window, a nearly full moon passed from
behind a cloud, and this time she got a brief but unmistakable look at the
ferret faced features of the skinny peeper who had been taking clandestine
pleasure from ogling her luscious body through her bedroom window for weeks.
She recognized Ernie at a glance as he stood behind some bushes, his tongue
sliding crudely back and forth across his lips, while his hand rubbed feverishly
at his swollen crotch.
Honey didn't let on that she had seen anything; she calmly threw a thin
wrapper over her delicious body and sat down and brushed her lustrous blonde
hair.
But Ernie'd seen plenty; the same moonlight that had illumined him had
given him his best look ever at Honey's creamy body -- her provocatively
pink-nippled breasts, her flat belly, the delicate fringe of a golden triangle
that seemed to point invitingly downward at her femininity. And those long,
perfect legs, tanned a rich golden brown; it was a memory he was to carry with
him in the dark days ahead.
********
The dark days began the next morning when Honey rose early and went down to
the bunkhouse with her pa, who had spent the night in town. When the ranch
hands were all assembled Honey identified Ernie as the perverted peeper in front
of the cowhands. Needless to say, when Henry Wilson ordered them to, Red and
a few of the boys had taken Ernie out back behind the bunkhouse and beaten him
to a pulp, loosening a couple of teeth in the process, before running him off
the Wilson property. Ernie would never forget how Honey had egged them on,
cheering their every punch, every kick. It wasn't like he'd raped her or
anything, Ernie rationalized; he was just trying to get a free look at that
curvaceous young body. What man wouldn't?
"Hi, sweetie." Ernie spat, as he swaggered up to the strung-up blonde. "You
did a good job ropin' this cock-teasing bitch, Jack."
"Don't touch me you filthy little bastard! I should have known you were
behind this somehow." Honey's blue eyes were bright with hatred and disgust.
Ernie, like a lot of short men, carried a chip on his shoulder about tall
women. Especially tall women, like the 5' 9" Honey Wilson, who called him a
filthy little bastard.
Black Jack Slocum just watched, amused. He had a feeling that Ernie was
gonna cut this full-breasted spitfire down to size. Ernie was a little shit,
but he was one mean son-of-a-bitch. Maybe even meaner than me, Jack thought with
a smile.
Ernie stood in front of a defiant Honey Wilson. He gave her golden body a
long slow once-over, lingering longest on the freshly-slapped breasts that were
still rosy from Jack's abuse. "Yer talkin' big, Honey, mighty big. Considerin'
that all of yer ranch hand buddies is off on that cattle drive. I seen 'em
leave, and it was me that told Jack, here, that the coast was clear. That we'd
have your sweet blonde ass all to ourselves for a few days. Seems to me you
might try bein' a little more respectful." And Ernie let fly a long disgusting
stream of tobacco juice, that splashed on the nicely curved upslope of Honey's
left breast. Amused, he watched the ugly brown liquid discolor her creamy
flesh.
"Respectful? Of a scrawny little perv..."
Honey never finished the sentence. Ernie's left fist, still encased in a
heavy black riding glove, punched her squarely in the midsection, just to the
right of her belly button, not too hard, but enough to draw a painful
"Unnggh!!" from Honey as she struggled to catch her breath.
The little rat-faced man smirked at her. "So you think I'm a pervert, do
you, Honey? Well let me tell you something, little lady. There ain't a man
workin' on this ranch that wouldn't give a month's pay to trade places with me
and Jack right now. To give your cock-teasin' ass what you been askin' for. And
after that, to give you what you got comin'. I seen it in their eyes, Honey."
Then the Weasel spoke again. "The tables is turned now, Honey; this time I
got the upper hand. Me and Jack that is. There ain't gonna be no tease and run
today, baby. Before I'm done with you, you're gonna beg for it."
"I wouldn't touch you if..."
Ernie buried his gloved right fist deep in her vulnerable gut, knocking the
wind clean out of her. A long, agonized "Oooowwwwhhh", escaped her lips.
Honey groaned in pain as she watched Ernie strut around like a bantam
rooster. As if he'd landed a knockout punch on an opponent who could defend
himself.
Jack was enjoying the show, watching Honey squirm around on tiptoe trying
to avoid Ernie but without success. He'd seen his partner use his fists on a
woman before; at least the crazy little bastard had the sense to pull his
punches enough so that he didn't break any bones. And the gloves cushioned the
blows too, a bit. Even so, Jack was damn glad it was Honey Wilson's midsection
and not his own that was taking Ernie's shots. From past experience he also
knew that Ernie Gibbs wasn't very likely to confine his attentions to Honey's
tanned, well-toned midriff for long. Not when there was those two other big
juicy targets just beggin' for attention...
Honey felt Ernie Gibbs' gray-green eyes crawling slug-like over the
volupuous curves of her body, slithering upward along her tawny thighs, her
panty-clad pussy, and her heaving pink-tipped breasts.
"Geesus, Jack, she's got some mighty fine knockers, don't she? Didn't I
tell ya? Didn't I?" Ernie stepped closer to the blonde beauty. "I watched you
more times than you know, Honey. Every fuckin' chance I got. Cause I just
couldn't get enough of these babies." Ernie's gloved hands cupped Honey's ripe
breasts, hefting them, bouncing them gently, smiling salaciously when she
wriggled to avoid his lecherous caresses.
But when she tried to wiggle away, Ernie tightened his iron grip on her
tit-globes and Honey gave a soft gasp of pain. "But I ain't never seen 'em up
close like this." Ernie the Weasel dug his leather-gloved thumbs into her coral
nipple-nuggets, until Honey moaned again, and then his fingers closed tightly on
her nubbins as he ground them between thumb and forefinger.
"I think Blondie likes it rough, Big Jack -- get a load of the way her nips
are getting stiff." Honey was mortified that her body was shaming her so before
these despicable low-lifes. Ernie lifted his gaze from Honey's nicely tanned
lust-globes to meet the eyes of the blue-eyed beauty. " And baby yer gonna get
it rough, less'n you decide to be real nice to Uncle Ernie."
"How about it, Honey? I might go easy on you if you was to tell me how
anxious you was to please me. I've been savin' it up for you baby. I've been
dreaming of having those pretty pink lips of yers wrapped around my cock since
that night I seen you dance. That was your birthday, wasn't it? Well tonight
it's me and Jack's turn for a present. Too bad he unwrapped you before I got
here, though. I wouldn't 'a minded unwrappin' you all by my lonesome."
Ernie stepped away from her and then slowly began circling back and forth
in front of her, like the boxer he had wanted to be as a young man. Until he'd
found out the hard way that an opponent sometimes punches back.
But Honey, with her hands tied high overhead, was hardly in any position
to fight back. And Ernie was fixing to even the score for the beating he had
taken from the ranch hands.
"Don't hit her face, Ern," Black Jack cautioned. "At least not now. You
know I like 'em pretty."
"Aw shit, Jack!" Ernie ripped a solid right into Honey's unprotected
ribcage, as she groaned and grimaced in pain again. "Can't I even slap her
around a little. Like this?" And, giggling, Ernie backhanded Honey across the
cheek, cracking her lip slightly as he did so. A thin trail of blood trickled
down the corner of her pretty mouth.
"Geesus, Ern, Goddammit! What'd I just say? I told you I don't want her
face all messed up."
"Aw, shit, Jack. That was just a love tap. Wasn't it, Honey?"
But when he saw that Black Jack was still scowling, Ernie changed his tune.
"Oh, all right," Ernie sulked for a moment. And then he turned back toward his
voluptuous captive. "Well, baby -- you ready to swallow Ernie's six-gun yet,
Honeychile?"
When Honey didn't respond, Ernie threw a punishing left hook that landed
just above her kidney. "Unnnnghhhhhh!!" Honey groaned in gutwrenching pain. Only
the up-rising wrist-ropes that kept her standing awkwardly on her toes prevented
her from falling to her knees.
"How does it feel, babe? How do You like gettin' worked over, Honey?
Getting an idea of how it was for me when yer old man's goons were kickin' my
ass?"
"Still not talkin'? OK by me. It's been a while since I had me a work-out
anyway."
Ernie paused as if he had come to some momentous conclusion. The little
bantam rooster took a deep breath that swelled up his chest, and tugged
self-importantly at his belt with his gloved hands. "I think I'm gonna practice
me some body shots on those big titties, Jack."
Honey tried desperately to turn away from him, but her bondage
restricted her movements considerably, and whichever way she turned, Ernie was
right there. both fists cocked. And then, noticing that Honey's heaving
pleasure-globes were still a rich blushing pink from the spanking Jack had given
'em, he added for Jack's benefit, "Although it looks like you beat me to the
punch." Then, before Honey could shift position or brace herself, Ernie fired a
short right hook that landed flush on the outer curve of Honey's left breast,
splattering the tobacco juice he had deposited there earlier. "Get it, Jack?
You beat me to the punch! Haw!"
"Geesus, Honey!" Ernie marveled. "Anybody ever tell you, you got some nice
firm punchin' bags? Big, but not too big. Just right for a little sparrin'
practice. And not an inch of sag in 'em, is there, Jack? Lotta tits that size
are soft as a goddamn pillow. Floppy soft. A man's fist just squishes in."
Ernie danced back and forth on his toes lightly watching Honey's pathetic
attempts to evade him, before seeing an opening and delivering a right cross
that slammed into the fullness of Honey's left breast with the resounding thud
of hard knuckles on bare flesh. "But these beauties are damn near perfect.
What's the word, Jack? Resilient? Yeah, resilient. And they got more jiggle in
'em than a buckboard ride."
"Remember that red-headed whore in Amarillo that time, Jack? That bitch
that tried to lift my wallet when she thought I was asleep?" After addressing
his partner, Ernie transferred his gaze back to the blonde beauty who dangled
from the rafter. "Honey, I stripped that big-titted whore naked and I tied her
to the biggest fuckin' chandelier in the Panhandle. And then I went three
rounds with her. Didn't I, Jack? And after that, she didn't hardly give us no
trouble at all, did she, big fella?
"Nope," Jack smiled in rembrance. "She sure didn't."
" And we had our cocks in her sweet ass up to our elbows. But that bitch
was was so scared I was gonna start in on her tits again she pretended to like
takin' it up the ass. Didn't she, Big Jack?"
"Yep. We put it to her good that night, Ern. 'Til we had to clear out just
before sun-up."
Honey's body was shaking uncontrollably with fear as she looked from the
sadistic little weasel to the the chiseled features of the rawboned gunslinger
and back. Her eyes nervously shifted to Jack's crotch; his black denims looked
like they were packin' a hammer handle.
Jack watched the blonde's eyes, bemused. "Like what you see, Honey? It's
all for you, baby. Every fuckin' inch of it!" Black Jack was as hard as a
blacksmith's anvil. And no wonder. The warm Texas sun streaming in through the
barn window bathed Honey's golden body in a warm glow. Honey's brow was damp
with perspiration, and beads of sweat were rolling untrammeled down her lovely
face, on to her neck, and then further down, until they clung to her
mouthwatering melons like dew on a spring morning.
"How many rounds you think you can go, Honey?" Ernie asked. Then, noticing
that her eyes were on Jack, he ripped a solid left uppercut into the soft
undercurve of the young blonde's right breast, sending it bouncing upwards. It
was just coming to rest when his right fist shot in at an angle and landed
squarely on the rounded inner curve of that same golden globe.
"Aaaunngghhhhh!! Stop...Please..." The blows had worn her down to the
point where she barely had the strength to make an attempt to avoid them. She
was a sitting duck. And Ernie was poised to capitalize on her lack of mobility.
Ernie spat another stream of tobacco juice down on Honey's feet and then
paused to wipe his sleeve across his own sweating face. "Know what that was,
Honey? That was the old Ernie Gibbs one-two! Like it? Wanna see it again?" And
Ernie repeated the maneuver, BAM! BAMM! drilling her other boob with two similar
punishing shots.
"Unnghhhh!!" Honey's groan at the first blow was cut short by the
gut-wrenching pain of the second, which drew from her an even deeper, longer
"Ummmnnnnnghhhhhh!!" of agony,
"Mmmmm, nice. They got just the right amount of "give", Jack. We sure did
luck out with Honey, here, didn't we?"
Honey's proud breasts were ablaze with pain from Ernie's punishing blows,
but there seemed to be no sign of any slackening of his malicious intent.
"Shit, Jack, don't ya just love the way her nips stick out? Lotta girls,
their nips disappear when they get scared. But Honey, here? Kee-rist! Look at
'em, Jack! They're sitting there, big and hard as a couple of cherry pits. Bet
they taste as sweet as cherry pits, too!"
Ernie stepped forward, and using the back of his gloved fist, lifted one
proud handful of breast-flesh to his eager lips. "Mmmmm-mmmm!
De-fuckin'-licious, Jack. I could suck on these babies all day." He sucked
hungrily at first one nipple then the other. "Shit, Jack, look at 'em all swole
up. Damn if they ain't askin' for it, ain't they?
"N-n-no... for God's sake..."
"And, Honey," Ernie continued, "I'm just the man to oblige." And Ernie,
as good as his word, stepped back, took aim, and timing her evasive movement
perfectly, launched a straight jab that caught her left breast flush on its
swollen nipple-crest.
"AAAAIIIAAAAHHH!!" Honey groaned in agony. It felt like he had driven her
breast all the way back to her chest wall.
And then, quickly,
Right! "Aaaaaahhh"
Left! "Eeaaaghh!!
Right! "AAUUGGHHHHH!!!" Ernie the Rat peppered each swollen bud in turn
with three more jabs, and Honey, at last surrendered.
"No... m-more," she panted, "For God's sake... stop... I'll do it."
"You'll do what, Honey? I want to hear you tell me and Jack here exactly
what you want to do."
"Whatever you want. Please... God... whatever you want"
"It's not what we want, Blondie. It's what you want to do. We wouldn't
ever want you to do nothin' you didn't wanna do. Cause we're a coupla Texas
gentlemen, ain't we, Jack?" Ernie cackled. "So tell me, Honey, what do you want
to do?"
"I'll...I'll suck your ..."
"You don't hear so good, Honey, do you?" Ernie hooked her squarely in the
right breast again. "Ouuuwwwww!! S-stop...please..."
"Say the words, Honey. 'I want to suck your cock, Ernie.' "
Honey, her breasts throbbing with pain, was crushed into submission.
Weakly, she whispered, "I want to suck your cock, Ernie."
"Well, that's just fine, Honey. Looks like we're finally makin' some
progress, Jack. But I think you want to suck my balls first, Honey, don't you?
Tell me you want to suck my hairy fuckin' balls, Honey-girl."
Honey hesitated again. Bad move. Ernie the Weasel drove his fist brutally
into her ribcage again.
"Agggghhhh!! Please, Ernie, I want to suck your balls. And your cock.
Now, Ernie ... please... Please."
"Jack, did you hear what this slut whore wants? She wants a taste of ol'
Ernesto. I reckon I oughta oblige her."
"OK, Ern'. You go ahead. I'm gonna go into the house and have me a look
around." And with that Jack turned on his heel and stalked out the barn door,
closing it behind him. Watching Ernie make love wasn't exactly a prepossessing
experience for him. There was usually a lot more talk than action and it rarely
lasted very long.
Oblivious to Jack's contempt, Ernie enthusiastically stacked a couple of
hay bales up and climbed atop them, bringing his crotch level with Honey's
mouth. Then he dropped his pants. Honey was repulsed by the days-old trail-scent
of the malevolent little man.
Honey's arms were still stretched high over her head. Since she could do
nothing to resist, Ernie grabbed a long blonde pig-tail in each hand, and pulled
her pretty face into his crotch. "OK, blue eyes! Wrap those pretty pink lips
around my hairy cojones. And suck 'em nice, if you know what's good for you!
Yeah...That's it... Suck 'em 'til I til you to stop, slut."
Trying desperately to overcome her revulsion, the virgin tease had leaned
forward and taken his scrawny, stinky little testicles into her mouth. She had
no idea of what was expected her, so she simply exerted a little suction.
"Roll 'em around in your mouth, baby. Just like they was the sweetest
fuckin' lemon drops in Texas....Ummmmm, nice...That's a girl."
Honey swirled his hairy balls around in her mouth slavishly, her nose
pressed firmly against Ernie's upright cock by the hands on her pigtails. Even
the little weasel's cock was rat-like -- scrawny, dirty, and ugly.
Ernie tired of her ball-worship a minute or two later and move slightly so
that his ugly veinous erection was pushing against Honey's lips. "Open up, baby
-- I gotcher dinner right here."
Suppressing the urge to retch, Honey opened her mouth slightly. And that
was all the opening Ernie needed. He jammed his dick into her mouth firmly,
muttering "Take it, Blondie. All the way in. That's a girl."
Then, tightening his grip on her blonde pigtails, Ernie, began to thrust
his pelvis forward, deeper and deeper into Honey's mouth, nearly choking her.
"Suck it, baby!" Her lips closed on his disgusting prick, and she began,
inexpertly, to suck on his fleshy spear.
"Mmmm, baby, that's nice. Real nice..." Ernie pulled back so that his
weasel-cock was at Honey's lips again. "Now let's see you put that pink tongue
'a yers to use, Honey girl. Lick that cock! That's it... up and down.. nice
and slow... Polish it... That's it...lick it all over, baby. Do it like you
liked it, you prick-teasing slut!" Ernie pulled her pigtails hard, and stared
menacingly into her tear-stained face. "Or do you want me to go another round
or two with those juicy jugs of yours?"
Terrified of a renewed assault on her brutalized breasts, Honey bent anew
to her task, using her mouth as best she could to satisfy her hateful tormentor.
Mercifully for Honey, Ernie's stamina was no greater than his stature and
he lasted only another couple of minutes before he pulled out of her mouth just
in time to spit gobs of Gibbs' sperm into her face, besmearing her eyes, nose,
and cheekbones.
Honey breathed a sigh of relief. She had taken a nasty beating from the
rangy gunslinger and she had pleasured his malicious little crony. Maybe now
they would go...
But just then Black Jack Slocum strode back in the barn door, with a
menacing scowl on his face...
