Posted by vorgous on December 23, 2004 at 21:58:10:
In Reply to: Re: Cowgirl defeats Indian - of course! posted by cindy on December 23, 2004 at 04:27:27:
How's this? Perhaps, you can try your hand at a variation on the theme:
The next morning, Jill put out the campfire and continued on her trip. She smirked as she noticed several buzzards by what was left of the injun she had taken care of the night before.
When the indian warrior had not returned to his Sioux tribe, a party of seven warriors, led by Apache Ursa, rode out to find him, bareback on their horses. The seven warrior men, with the black shoulder-length hair, fierce facial features, and bronzed muscular bodies clad only in loincloths looked almost as if they were clones of one another. Apache Ursa was their leader even though not a Sioux by birth. She was beautiful to look at, deadly to face, and she could best any indian warrior in a knife duel. She was a fearsome, tall muscular woman, with large breasts and black hair that trailed down her back. She wore the jacket of a cavalry soldier that she he had gutted and scalped, its sleeves cut off to the shoulder so that her top was more a vest than a shirt. She kept the vest mostly unbuttoned so that her ample breasts could distract and taunt any males. She wore a cow-hide skirt, with a hem that was mid-thigh in length.
The indian party noticed the flurry of buzzard activity, and rode towards it. They saw the ravaged remains of the indian warrior they were seeking. Apache Ursa sneered in disgust, "Wolf's Eyes died a fool's death." Looking at the burned groin being pecked at by the birds, she continued, "He did not even die a man. Even though we must avenge him, he is the dung of the earth." The indian party saw the campsite and saw the direction that the wagon had left the site.
Jill had left the desert and she was driving her buckboard up the rocky trail towards Mesquite Mesa. Little did she realize that the indian party was fast following her trail. Nevertheless, Jill was always cautious and was well-armed for an attack. Although she still wore the blouse that the indian had ripped, she had put on her her long coat. With baggy sleeves the coat hem nearly reached her ankles. Strapped to Jill's waist were her two six-shooters, fully loaded. Her rifle was at her side. She had on her cowgirl hat, and her jeans and leather boots completed her attire.
The trail had led her up nearly towards the top of the mesa, near dead man's cliff. Jill's alert ears heard the sound of horse hoofs not to far behind her. Looking back, she could see a dusty cloud not too far back.
The indian party had made no effort to disguise their approach. They knew that they vastly outnumbered whoever it was who had done in Wolf's Eyes. In fact, they had begun their battle cries. screaming, "Aaaiieeeee, Aaieeeee."
Jill tried to speed up her horse, but the horse was tired, and going fast uphill pulling a wagon was not exactly a simple task. She looked around again, and could see the fierce indians gaining on her. She urged the horse to go faster. She pulled out one of her six shooters, aimed and fired. The bullet struck one of the indian warriors in chest. He tried to hold on but could not stay on his speeding horse. Falling off the horse between the horses legs, the horse tripped over the indian's unprotected body, stomping him in the midsection and face. The indian bounced on the rocky trail, his skin scraping over pebbles, rocks and dirt, until his body came to rest bones broken and indian dead, laying face up with a vacant stare skyward.
Jill had reached near the edge of dead man's cliff. There was no place for her to go. She was boxed in. This was where she would have to make her stand. The only advantage she had was that she had firearms, the indians did not.
Three of the remaining indian warriors had bows and arrows. Apache Ursa directed the indian warriors to take the offensive. She kept back away from the rest, waiting to see how they would do. Arrows whizzed past Jill. She halted the wagon near the ledge and got inside it, as the indian warriors rode their horses and readied their attack.
She fired her six shooters, missing a couple of times. The she hit one of the indians who was riding near the edge of cliff. He screamed and fell from his horse, over the cliff, rolling down about 100 feet. His bronzed body, bounced and dragged over ragged rocks, plants, branches, dirt and pebbles. His loincloth ripped off his body has he rolled down the slope before coming to a stop -- utterly naked and dead, his broken body spread out face up.
An arrow struck Jill's hat, knocking it off her head. She fired, killing the second indian archer. He fell backwards off his horse, somersaulted in the air and landed face down in some fresh horse dung left by one of the other horses. his arms were spread out and his legs wide apart.
Apache Ursa was less than pleased with the showing of the male warriors. She, however, was not ready to make a move until she could see how the other warriors did.
The last remaining indian archer decided to ride straight at the buckboard, firing arrows as he approached. The other three warriors dismounted and also ran towards the buckboard. All began to get excited both by the blood battle, but also by the thought of defeating and perhaps having their way with the white cowgirl.
Jill noticed that beneath the flimsy loincloths these injuns were aroused by the situation. She knew that that would be their downfall. She fired, striking the charging indian archer. The bullet struck him in the neck. He dropped his bow and his horse, not realizing any better, kept going past the buckboard and over the cliff. Indian separated from horse, both bouncing and rolling down the hillside. The indian, not quite dead, but mortally wounded, landed on top of the first indian, his loincloth torn and ripped. He quivered and shaked as he lay dying. The horse was luckier. She survived the fall and limped away from the battle.
The remaining three indian warriors had rushed towards Jill on foot, but they were no match for her firearms. Jill jumped off the wagon, rifle in hand. Pointing it at the indians, they stopped in their tracks. She motioned for them to put their hands up. The nearly naked savages did so. Jill smiled as she noticed that these beasts remained aroused, she could see the effects of their hardened members on the skimpy loincloths. Jill motioned them over towards the edge of the cliff, and had them toss their knives to the ground. Picking up the knife of one of the indians knife, she cut each of their loincloths off. She looked at the three indians, now completely unprotected and nude, hands in the air, and fully engorged penises pointed towards Jill.
She pushed her rifle barrel against the member of the indian in the middle. She put the barrel of the rifle over the head of the hardened penis, and she pulled out one of her six shooters. The indian trembled. Jill smirked, and brought the barrel of her gun up to the opened mouth of the indian. "You shall speak no evil," Jill laughed and fired the pistol. The indian fell backwards and over the cliff. His body rolling over the jagged rocks and dirt and branches until he, too, came to rest on top of the other two naked injuns. The indian lay face up, and even though dead, his hard penis remained engorged and jutted upwards.
She walked over to another of the last two male redskins. She used the rifle barrel to toy with the indian's member and then again placed the rifle barrel over the head of his hard penis. She pointed her six shooter at the indian's face and laughed, "You shall see no evil." Then Jill fired twice, the first struck the indian's right eye, the second his left eye. He crumpled to the ground dead. Crushing the hard penis with her boot, Jill pushed this injun over the cliff and his naked body rolled and rolled over pebbles and sticks and rocks until he came to rest with a hard bounce landing with his stiff member coming down hard against a boulder. He lay over the boulder, his backside sticking up in the air.
Jill walked over to the last indian. "So, you're still happy to see me," Jill said looking at the indian's engorged member. Again she put the barrel of her rifle over the indian's hard member. "Oh, what the heck," Jill said, and fired the rife the bullet striking and literally blowing to smithereens the indian's penis. The indian crumbled to the ground, still alive but writhing in agony.
As the indian rolled about, Apache Ursa made her move. Knife in hand she had crept closer to where Jill was. As the last naked male indian rolled and writhed he came closer to the edge of the cliff, and then rolled over. He bounced around until he came to land on top of the indian pile below. They lay entagled, naked skin to naked skin, with the one indian still on top with his engorged member still jutted up in the air.
Apache Ursa yelled a blood cry as she made her assault, knife in hand. Jill's reflexes were good, and in turning around, her rifle's barrel struck the indian, throwing her off-balance. However, the rifle also fell out of Jill's hands as did her six-shooter. The two females grappled and rolled around in the dirt. They kicked, bit, scratched, and punched each other. Jill's clothes protected her from much of the damage she might otherwise have suffered. Apache Ursa remained mostly unprotected.
In the fight the knife fell to the ground. The women fought to reach it or any of the other scattered weapons. They were off the ground and fighting on their feet. Jill pushed Apache Ursa against the hard, wooden wagon. Apache Ursa's flimsly skirt tore off her body, and in the battle her cavalry jacket vest also tore off her body. The indian was utterly naked, her large breasts as scratched and bruised as the rest of her body. Jill, though, clothed was also in pain.
The battle raged for about five minutes. The naked indian was dirtied and bloodied. She had also fallen on and her thighs and face were smeared with some fresh horse dung. Nevertheless, she continued to battle. She kicked Jill in the groin and dove for the knife. Jill was able to fend off the attack, a knife slash cutting her long coat but not her body.
They rolled on the ground again, the clothed cowgirl and the naked savage she-devil. They fought for control over the blade. Apache Ursa tried to push the knife into Jill. Jill tried to push it into the indian. Slowly, but surely Jill was winning, pushing the knife towards and forcefully towards Apache's Ursa's midsection. And, then there was a grunt. And, then the fight was over.
Jill backed away. Apache Ursa tried to stand. She got to her feet and looked down. Sticking out of her groin was the handle of the knife. Imbedded deep in Apache Ursa, who stunk from the horse dung, was the knife blade. The indian savage staggered. She looked with horror at Jill.
Jill smiled and approached the indian. Apache Ursa staggered backwards. Jill smirked, "Die, bitch." Jill picked up her six-shooter and calmly shot Apache Ursa in her left breast. The indian fell backwards over the cliff. Her dirty, bloodied, dung-smeared, but voluptuous body bounced on the rocks, rolled over pebbles and stick and came to rest on the pile of dead and dying indian warriors. She came to rest, falling mouth open on top of the jutted engorged penis, her arms stretched outwards, her large breasts flattened against other flesh and her legs apart. Her eyes open stared blankly into skin and flesh of the dead, naked, male injuns.
"More carrion food," Jill laughed, as she got on the buckboard and drove away, purposing having her horse, and then the wheels of her wagon, trample over the dead, prone, nearly naked body of the indian who had landed face first in the horse dung.