It was getting late. The hairs on the back of Darian DeGaul’s broad and dusty neck stood on end as a wolf howled off in the distance. The black handkerchief covering his face puffed out slightly with exasperation. Darian was annoyed. Everything he did he did with a considerably timeliness. The fact that the elusive M.M. did not appear to settle the deal did nothing but royally piss him off. It was the third time that M.M., the owner of the Nevada Excavating Guild, failed to meet with him to discuss the allocation of missing funds. Darian DeGaul was known throughout the Western part of the United States as the French Devil, a masked train, bank, and stage coach robber. It was rumored that he had stolen up over a million dollars. The true secret in Darian Degaul’s success was his appearance and accent. Whenever he did a heist he would bathe the soot and grime from his body. He would paint over his naturally tan skin to make himself appear white and sallow. He would go through great lengths to grow a beard only to trim it off to make him appear as a member of French aristocracy. Darian would dress entirely in black suave clothing giving him the illusion of being a gentleman of high standing. Sun would glint off his slicked back hair provided he wasn’t wearing his preferred top hat. And lastly, every word and command he would utter dripped with a deep French drawl that could not be denied. In actuality, Darian looked like nothing more than an ordinary Frontiersman. His skin was so tan that many people mistook him for being an Indian. Darian dressed himself simply in leather and cotton and resided in a small cabin overlooking the plains. He had a horse, a stable, and a few small animals. Darian lived close enough to the small local town but far enough away for his privacy. His accent was so western American it was hard to believe he could sound like a pompous French ass. In San Francisco, where he went by another name, is a story for a different time. At any rate, Darian tugged on the rains of his dappled grey horse, Glory, towards his cabin.
By the time he had reached his cabin, the sun had already set. The prairie around him was awash in a purplish glow. Wind bristled through the tall grasses and crickets began their nocturnal symphony. Darian approached the roughly hewn wooden door of his cabin, and stopped. A faint whiff of an unusual fragrance danced through his nostrils. Thirty seconds before all he smelled was sweat and horse and dried grass and dirt. Now an aroma of spice, vanilla, and apple flooded his senses. He just couldn’t process it, it was so heady. For the second time in the hour the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Someone was inside his cabin. Slowly with an experienced hand Darian drew out his pistol and cocked it. With his free hand he grabbed the tomahawk that hung on his back. Taking a silent breath in Darian kicked the door in of his cabin while unleashing a manly battle cry that shook the very foundation of his shoddy little cabin.
“ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH”. Darian jumped in and scanned the room. He saw nothing. Confused and feeling slightly stupid, Darian took a step back and looked across the room again. After a short spell Darian began to loosen up. Depositing his tomahawk and pistol on a sideboard near the floor, he turned to bolt the door. He walked over to the small table and uncorked a bottle of whisky and forced it down after yanking down his dust covered handkerchief.
“Are you always so dramatic?” a smooth feminine voice purred. Darian choked on his drink as his hand immediately shot to his holster. His pistol, unfortunately, remained cold on the sideboard. Whiskey dribbled down his chin sloppily.
“Really, Mr. Jebson, you knew we would be meeting today and I find your surprise a bit unprofessional.” Out of the shadow a woman appeared. Darian had missed a figure who had apparently blended well into the darkness. A woman of medium height appeared before his very eyes. Buxom, this woman was nothing but alluring curves. Flaming red hair cascaded her face down her back. Her vivid blue green eyes were wreathed in black lashes and her sensuous wide mouth was painted a deep cherry red. Her eyes smoldered into Darian gray ones.
“Who in the hell are you?” Darian managed to stay, still fighting the urge to cough up more whisky that was aspirating in his lungs. The woman fluttered her eyes and smiled.
“Mackenzie McKentire, at your service.” She sang in her melodious voice. The Celestial hardly ever spoke; she sang and the power of her magical voice ensorcelled all men to her will. Darian looked confused.
“I don’t believe we’ve met before, ma’am.” Why am I being so polite with an intruder?
“Of course we haven’t, but we’ve certainly been business partners for some time now. I must apologize for my absence on the 15th and 21st. As a fellow colleague in your line of work I’m sure you can sympathize; recent events have made it unseemly for me to be seen in public, especially with a man as notorious as yourself, Mr. Jebson.” Every word she caroled was dripping with sex.
“My name is not Jebson, I”
“Fine, Mr. Degaul. I know who you are, in fact, I know almost everything about you.” The woman stopped talking and walked towards Darian. Mackenzie swung her hips slowly and her breasts jiggled from atop her corset. “Let’s not play games, Darian, and get straight to business.”
A look of realization washed over Darian’s face. “You! You are M.M.!”
Mackenzie chucked. “Smart man, you’ve figured me out.” Darian looked at Mackenzie with awe. The air around her smelled so good; she was obviously the source of the delicious fragrance from earlier. Mackenzie was dressed in a dark scarlet travelling dress. The collar of the gown was opened in a most obscene fashion revealing a good portion of her white breasts. The corset was drawn in a way that enhanced her many curves. “Darian,” she purred drawing him back into focus, “The contracts.”
“What contracts?” he was completely mesmerized at swift rising and falling of her pillowy breasts. She chuckled deep into her throat.
“The contracts, Darian, that we signed about the Jackson Coal heist.” She stamped her foot firmly on the ground shattering his concentration and bringing him back to reality.
“Ahem, yes, those contracts.” Darian began to sweat. He was all too aware of the unseemly rise and tightness of his pants. Mackenzie noticed this and raised her gaze to match his. She cocked her head and lowered her eyelids and said, “Is everything alright, Darian? Perhaps now is not a good time to do business, you don’t seem,” she lowered her eyes and fixed on the bulge in his pants, “to be very comfortable at this present time.” Mackenzie turned away and pushed passed him towards the door. As she reached the door she turned around swiftly. She drew from a velvet hand bag a small box. Within that box she took out a piece of paper and laid it down on the sideboard next to his pistol. Mackenzie pinched a small pile of tobacco leaves together and began to roll them into the paper. She brought the role to her puckered cherry red lips and, turning to face him, rolled out a wet pink tongue. She licked the length of the role in deviously slow strokes. Darian, unbeknownst to him, was drawn forth from where stood to be a just a hairbreadth away from Mackenzie. “Darian,” she whispered huskily, “I’m not wet enough to get this thick roll to stick. Would you lick it for me?” Her eyes widened and Darian became lost in a sea of tumultuous desire and passion. He took the roll from her delicate fingers and licked the length of it. In no time it was wet enough to be stuck and he handed it back. His breath became ragged and the bulge in his pants threatened to burst forth. “You have my thanks.” Said Mackenzie as she lit the cigarette. Drawing a breath in she closed her eyes as the smoke drifted through her lungs. She breathed out and cloud of smoke enveloped Darian’s senses. He moaned, he just couldn’t keep it in. It was time to let it go. With a growl Darian knocked the cigarette from Mackenzie’s hand and stamped it out with his boot. He grabbed her body and embraced her with the strength of a madman. His mouth sought her cherry red lips and he began to kiss the shit out of her. Mackenzie inhaled sharply as she felt the massive bulge poke at her sensitive jewel. His rough hands roamed all over her body and her hands raked through his dark hair. Somehow they made it to his bed and a crackling fire roared to life in the hearth. Darian was temporarily subdued as he laid on his side and stared into Mackenzie’s beautiful face. She returned his stare and slowly, one by one, the buttons that ran the length of her gown popped off, one by one. They bounced off the walls and scattered on the floor. Her scarlet gown flew open allowed an even more tempting view of her breasts and tightly cinched waist. Darian went to touch her skin and immediately the dress evaporated into a mist. But he didn’t even notice. His mouth went straight to the crease in her breasts where he licked and kissed. Mackenzie moaned and nearly swooned as the sweet sensations rolled through her body. Darian’s hand roamed to grab at her crotch where he found her to be already wet. Unfortunately the material restricted his ability to sample her love juices. Roughly, he flipped her over on her tummy and began to undue the corset with experienced hands. When it was loose he threw it about the room and it fell in a heap before dissipating. Now all that Mackenzie wore were her silk pantaloons, stockings, and garters. She turned herself around and allowed her body to be taken into the possession of Darian DeGaul. His kissed her face and chest and neck and breasts. He nipped at her ears while fumbling with the fly of his pants. Mackenzie’s beautiful eyes opened and she looked at Darian. With a blink, his clothes turned to fire and burned off. He felt no pain but rather a cleansing sort of power as the sweat and dust was removed along with his clothes. Darian was naked and his arousal was very evident. With a rapidness he had never felt before, Darian kissed down Mackenzie’s ivory torso until he reached the apex of her thighs. A pointed tongue stabbed at her jewel and Mackenzie came off the bed in a bout of pleasure. Darian kissed and bit around the flesh of her sex and when she couldn’t take it anymore he ripped the fabric asunder. Darian gazed down at her beauty. He brought a shapely leg up to his lips and kissed the length of it. Her silk garters and stockings added a refined bit of sensuality to the rawness of the situation. At this point, Mackenzie sat up and pushed Darian down onto the bed. She straddled him. She kissed his face and body much in the fashion he had done earlier. She turned herself around so that her round white ass was in his face and bent down to suckle at his engorged cock. Darian thrashed at the sensations as a fiery heat rose up his body. He just couldn’t take it anymore; he had to let it go. He felt his body constrict and his love juices began to boil and shake. Right at the moment of ultimate bliss Mackenzie removed her mouth and turned around. She whispered into his ear, “Not yet, Darian.” She faced him and her body came down with force onto his. She became impaled on his mighty penis. Both of them moaned in their ecstasy. Her slick wetness bathed his cock and she began to ride him in a blaze of passion. Darian moved his body to match her. Mackenzie’s breath increased rapidly and her moans were sharp and frank. Darian spread the cheeks of her ass and squeezed and caressed the flesh. At that moment Mackenzie’s eyes drifted towards the ceiling and the cried with delight as her vagina began to quiver and dance. Mackenzie began to hum, and the vibrations in her throat radiated through the small cabin; the sounds was deafening. With eyes closed, Darian roared and his love juices boiled up unrestrained.
When he opened his eyes the room was dark, and the Divine hum died in his ears. There was no fire blazing and there certainly was no woman straddling him. In fact he wasn’t even naked. Disturbed, Darian shot straight up and noticed a deep wet spot in the crotch of his pants. The smells of vanilla and apple and spice left his nose and a wolf howled in the distance. Embarrassed at his release, Darian’s thoughts raced through his mind. He had absolutely no idea what had just happened. He stood up and immediately fell to the floor as if his strength had evaporated. Hitting with a thud, Darian put his arms beneath him to push himself up. He noticed a scarlet button on the floor. Curious, he picked it up to take a closer look at it.
“Hunh…” he spat, “I guess I really should lay off the peyote.”