The Cowboy

by Balls Malone

The Cowboy looked down from atop his magnificent steed at the pretty young woman and the three rough looking men who surrounded her.

“Trouble Sally?” he asked in his smooth baritone.

“Jaundice, these men are–” Sally started before she was interrupted as one of the men stepped behind her, clamped his hand over her near-legendary mouth, and drew a huge Bowie knife to wave in front of her dewy eyes. As if of one mind, the other two bandits stepped between her and Jaundice.

“There aint nothing here for ya, mister, less you be lookin for trouble,” said the lankiest of them, with his hand poised over his low-slung pistol like a rattlesnake with five heads and no tail.

“Why, I like trouble,” Jaundice replied, “almost as much as I like sucking shit from your mother’s asshole.”

Puzzled by the inherent wittiness of Jaundice’s retort, all three of the men paused, blinking stupidly at each other. This was all the time Jaundice needed.

With the lightning speed of a man born to action, Jaundice drew his double barreled shotgun from its saddle holster and brought it down hard on the lead brigand’s head, who fell as though struck by a shotgun wielded by God himself. Jaundice continued the natural motion of his swing until it was pointed at the second villain, and he discharged both barrels into his face at a range of less than a foot. Then, trusting in the inherent stupidity of all villains in westerns, Jaundice swung his leg over his mount and slid from the saddle, tossing his empty shotgun to Sally’s captor with a smooth call of “catch!” The man did not disappoint, and dropped his buxom human shield in order to grab the still smoking weapon. Jaundice drew his pistol and shot him right between the eyes.

Sally was by no means any less attractive now that she was covered in the remains of two men’s heads, including the almost complete scalp of the shotgun victim, which dangled jauntily from her bonnet. She ran up to her savior and buried her face in his chest, comforting herself with his manly musk.

“Oh Jaundice! I thought for sure they were going to… well… you know,” she finally managed.

“Now, now, Sally, I’m sure that would only be a mite less tolerable than you’re used to,” The Cowboy answered with a wry grin. Before she could respond indignantly to this, he pushed her to arm’s length. “Don’t get your bloomers in a bunch, Sally. I’m just sassing.”

Jaundice swiveled his steely gaze from her quivering face to the first villain he had struck over the head, who was beginning to come around.

“Why, I reckon I’m going to teach this varmint a lesson he’ll never forget!” Jaundice exclaimed.

He and Sally proceeded to strip the man naked. They tethered him wrists and ankles with rawhide and stakes, face up and spread eagle over a round boulder in the small of his back. Jaundice then commenced to sodomizing him vigorously, face to face, pausing in this only to beat him about the body with brutal punches from his iron-hard fists. Sally, fine lady that she was, helped Jaundice along by massaging his ass and balls from behind as she averted her eyes from the spectacle.

The Cowboy ejaculated inside the villain, who was rendered quite speechless by the manly display he had been treated to. Jaundice and Sally took their time with the next stage. They lit a small fire under the villain’s genitals and slow roasted them good and proper. After waiting for him to pipe down a bit, they cut off his eyelids and left him as he was, staring up at the noonday sun with eyes frying in his head. They rode off together with his screams still echoing in the canyon around them.

It was a good day for Justice.