The year was 1882; the west had started to settle down and many of the old wild, rough and tough towns were no longer that way. Such was the small cow town of Apache Creek, AZ; at one time it was famous for being one of the roughest towns to drive cattle through. A town that use to be run by crooked Sheriff Williams, who looked the other way when cattle were rustled or a cattleman was robbed.

Now it had settled down and the old sheriff was gone, replaced by Sheriff Joe O’Riley, an Irish bloke from the Midwest – Chicago to be exact. When he answered the ad for sheriff, the town council immediately hired him because of his no-nonsense attitude. He had been on the job for six months and word got around about him and new settlers were coming into the town of Apache Creek, making it their new home.

The only one not happy with the new sheriff was Miss Tiffany. She was the owner of the Silver Eagle Saloon, which she had won in a poker game two years ago from the owner. Miss Tiffany also had her hand in the flesh trade. She ran a reputable place where a man could drink, play cards, and get fucked without worrying about being cheated or diseased. She and her three girls were high class and the whiskey was real, not watered down.

The sheriff did not harass her or her girls so that was not why she was unhappy with him. She was pissed because Sheriff Joe O’Riley had not dipped his stick in her honey pot. Hell, even old Sheriff Wilson had dipped his little stick every week until he had a massive heart attack in her bed when he was dipping.

“Miss Tiffany, that frown sure make you look ugly and ain’t no man going to fuck no ugly woman,” said Mac, an older black freed slave, as he leaned on the bar.

She looked at Mac’s serious face and laughed. “You are right,” she said as she smiled and made a face. “Is this better?”

Mac just looked at her and smiled. He had hooked up with her and her girls in Independence, MO when they needed a man to travel west with them three years ago. He was very protective of all four of them.

Mac was slow in the head but Miss Tiffany did not know if he was born that way or if something had happened while he was a slave. Mac never said, so she respected his privacy and did not ask. He was the one that kept the saloon clean by sweeping, mopping, and glass washing. Sometimes he even had to keep peace in the saloon.

Mac motioned for her to lean forward over the bar, and when she did, he kissed her cheek lightly and lumbered away.

Once Mac had disappeared into the back of the saloon her thoughts returned to her favorite subject – Sheriff Joe O’Riley. He was one fine specimen of a man – about six-feet-one-inch tall, built solid like a redwood tree, green eyes, and short reddish-brown hair.

Maybe she was misplacing her anger and it was her fault he had not dipped, she thought. She was not a raving beauty or tall and willowy like her girls. She was a little on the plump side, as her mother was fond of saying - God rest her soul – but was pretty in her own right. She stood only five-feet-five-inches, with grey eyes, and black hair to her waist that she kept pulled back and upon her head, and breasts of good proportion – a large handful.

She remembered Sheriff Williams always bragging she was a mouthful. In fact, she had proof of that since he had her breast in his mouth just before he went to meet his maker. When it hit, he bit her breast, requiring three stitches.

Almost as if her mind had conjured him up, Sheriff Joe O’Riley sauntered into the Silver Eagle.

“Just wanted to stop by and let you and your girls know that the Race boys have been spotted in the area. They are known to kidnap young ladies and have their way with them. Do not go anywhere without Mac after dark.”

“Thanks for the warning, sheriff,” Miss Tiffany told him. “Seeing as we are not busy how about a five-minute romp?”

“Sorry, but I am on duty,” he told her as he turned to leave.

“Being on duty never stopped Sheriff Williams,”

“I am not Sheriff Williams,” he called over his shoulder as he left the saloon.

“Sure in the hell not,” Miss Tiffany muttered to herself as she watched his ass, clad in tight denim pants, walk out the door. “Sheriff Williams definitely did not have an ass as fine as that.”

Soon it was the time of the bi-annual cattle drive and both were kept busy with the cowboys who invaded the town for two weeks. At the end of that time period, Miss Tiffany closed the saloon for twenty-fours to give her and the girls a much-needed rest. Even though she entertained some of the big bosses of the cattle drives, her mind was still on trying to seduce Sheriff Joe O’Riley.

On the day of rest, while she was sitting in the kitchen enjoying a cup of coffee, it hit her – the plan that would get the sheriff to dip his stick in her honey pot. Taking her cup of coffee, she went in search of Mac to deliver her message to a friend of hers.

As prearranged, a few days later Mac lumbered hurriedly to the jail. Throwing open the door, he saw the deputy sitting at the desk instead of the sheriff. Although he was slow, Mac remembered exactly what Miss Tiffany told him – the sheriff and no one else was to get the note.

Trying to calm his racing heart and breathing, Mac rambled, “I needs to deliver a mess… mess… note to the… sheriff.”

“He stepped out for lunch but I will make sure he gets it,” the deputy said holding his hand out for the note.

“Sheriff only,” Mac insisted stubbornly, holding tightly to the note.

Knowing he would not hand over the note, and having a soft spot for him the deputy said, “He is eating lunch at Ella’s Dinner.”

“Thank you, Deputy Ross,” as he left for the restaurant fast as he could.

Halfway to the restaurant, he saw the sheriff coming toward him. Waving the note in the air, Mac called out, “Important note just for you, sheriff. Take it 'cause I got to get back the saloon.”

Puzzled, the sheriff took the note and read the contents, then hurried to his office.

Rushing in he asked, “Ross, can you man the office for a few extra hours? I got something urgent to take care of.”

“Before you go, Mac is looking for you. I sent him to Ella’s Dinner.”

“I met him halfway back. That’s the urgent business I need to take care.”

As he headed to the livery to get his horse he reread the note, which read, “I have Miss Tiffany. To get her back, put twenty-five dollars under the rock at the entrance to the abandoned silver mine. There will be a note telling you where she is.”

Joe kind of thought it was a hoax with such an odd ransom amount so he stopped by the Silver Eagle to see if she was there first.

Seeing Mac wiping down the bar he asked, “Miss Tiffany here Mac?”

“No sir, she went out for a ride awhile back,” he answered. “Miss Gwen say note explain everything. That is why I had to find only you.”

With her not there and going for a ride, made Joe feel the note was legit; but why such a small amount? Checking to make sure he had the money he headed for the abandoned silver mine. He put the money under the rock and took out another note.

"Line cabin, 10 miles west.”

The sheriff wanted to stay around and catch in person but he felt the urgency to see if she was at the line cabin and okay. When he found the line cabin, he tied his horse off a few feet back. Taking his gun out, he approached cautiously on foot.

At the cabin, he moved to a window and quickly looked in. There was Miss Tiffany sitting in the middle of the floor, hands tied behind her back, feet tied together, blindfolded and a gag in her mouth.

From what he could observe from the window there was no one else in the one-room line cabin. Joe circled around it and saw a horse tied to a tree out back. He figured it was her horse but he was taking no chances.

Coming to the front door, he opened it slowly and stepped inside, scanning the room - empty except for Trisha.

It was at that moment, seeing her so helpless, that he felt a stirring of feelings for her.

Although she could not see, Miss Tiffany heard footsteps and could only hope it was the sheriff and not a stranger in the cabin.

“It’s me Miss Tiffany, Sheriff Joe O’Riley,” he said as he removed her gag and blindfold. “Hold tight a minute and I will have you untied.”

Once she was untied he helped her to her feet. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers so she could kiss him, her tongue demanding entrance. As if his mouth had a mind of its own, it opened and sucked her tongue in. Joe crushed her to him, his hand cupping her bottom.

Miss Tiffany continued to kiss him while she worked on the buttons of his shirt until she had it opened, thrusting her hands inside to play with his nipples. Joe fumbled with the small buttons on the back of her dress until he had enough free to remove her breasts from her chemise. Bending down he brought up one, then the other breast to suckle – almost causing her knees to buckle.

Joe scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the narrow cot in the cabin, laying her down gently. Stepping back he removed his hat and gun belt, putting them on the floor. He unfastened his pants and pulled out his cock. Miss Tiffany pulled her skirt and petticoats up to her waist, revealing to Joe that she was not wearing any bloomers.

Suddenly he shook his head and tucked himself back inside telling her, “Sorry Miss Tiffany but you have just been the ordeal of being kidnapped and left here trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I want you but will not take advantage of you when you are in a vulnerable state. Now, cover yourself before I forget how to act like a gentleman. I will be right outside getting the horses ready.”

And with that, he grabbed his hat, slammed it on his head, fastened on his gun belt and went outside – leaving her on the bed, her bare pussy exposed and very frustrated.

“Damn his morals,” she said as she rearranged her clothes “Fucking bastard. Any other normal red-blooded American would have jumped on my honeypot in a flash.”

They rode back to town, getting there just as the sun was setting. Joe took her to the saloon and then took her horse to the stable with his.

When she walked into the saloon it was just starting to get busy. Gwen, one of her girls, came up to her and whispered, “Did the plan work?”

Miss Tiffany laughed and said softly, “If it had we would still be in that line cabin fucking our brains out. Well, back to the drawing board. I need to freshen up and I will be right back down.”

Gwen had never seen Miss Tiffany so consumed with the desire to fuck one man. Generally, she had the ‘fuck them and send them on their way’ attitude. Suddenly she was brought out of her thoughts as she heard glass break. Just as she looked at the sound she saw a beer mug headed at her head. She ducked but not before it gave her a glancing blow. When Mac saw her get hit, he became enraged and headed toward the culprit.

“Mac, “Gwen screamed, “no, don’t hit him. I am okay. Just take him to jail.”

Although Mac was old and slow in the head, he was strong from working as a blacksmith so he had no trouble throwing the man over his shoulder and began his slow lumbering walk to the jail. Gwen told the bartender to tell Miss Tiffany what had happened and followed Mac to the jail.

When Mac walked into the jail, he dumped the man on the floor and said, “This man hit Miss Gwen with a beer mug.”

Joe stood up behind his desk and was ready to ask the man what was going on when Gwen burst through the door, blood running from a small cut on the side of her forehead. Seeing the blood, Mac whipped out his hankie and handed it to her.

Gwen dabbed at the place and told the sheriff, “Not sure why he got mad but he threw a beer mug. I want to press assault charges, sheriff.”

“Red, you done messed up this time hurting one of Miss Tiffany’s girls,” Joe told him. “What got you so mad?”

“I earned me twenty-five dollars and my friend accused me of stealing it.” Red slurred

“Miss Gwen, Mac,” Joe began “we will let him sober up tonight and then file the charges.”

Gwen knew that the sheriff would lock Red overnight so they went back to the Silver Eagle.

“Sheriff, I did earn that money,” Red insisted. “Not only did I get the money, but Miss Tiffany let me fuck her.”

When Red said this, Joe asked, “Why would she pay you money Red?” although the whole picture was starting to become clear.

Red suddenly started to laugh and then passed out on the floor.

“Shit,” Joe muttered as he dragged Red back to an open cell to sleep it off. “Guess I’ll have to get my answers from Miss Tiffany.”

When his deputy came in two hours later Jim’s temper had just about reached its boiling point from thinking he may have been duped by Miss Tiffany but he managed to keep it under control when talking to Ross.

“Red is in the back sleeping it off. Got mad at Miss Tiffany’s and threw a beer mug, giving Miss Gwen a glancing blow. Otherwise all quiet.”

“See you in the morning, Joe.”

“I'll be at home if you need me.”

Joe was originally decided to go home and talk to Miss Tiffany in the morning but when he passed the swinging doors and heard the laughter something snapped inside and he wanted to see her now. Walking through the doors he scoured the room for her, finding her near the far end of the bar talking to Mac.

Walking up to them he turned to Mac and said, “Excuse me, but I need a few minutes alone with Miss Tiffany.”

Looking at Miss Tiffany, Mac waited until she gave him the nod before he moved across the room where he could still observe them.

“Well Sheriff Joe O’Riley, to what do I owe this talk?”

“Red, twenty-five dollars, and how he acquired it,” Joe said staring intently at her, unaware that he was staring into the eyes of a professional poker player.  "And oh... he said he fucked you, so did he?"

“And pray tell, what does this have to do with me?” she asked innocently “I was in my room when it happened. Miss Gwen is who you should be talking to.  And he may have been a client at one time.”

Leaning close he whispered in her ear, “If you do not want everyone to see me dipping my stick in your honeypot I strongly suggest we take it somewhere more private.”

At the thought of finally getting what she desired a huge smile came over her face. “My quarters are in the back. Come with me.”

She led him to her quarters and once the door was closed behind them, Miss Tiffany threw herself into his arms kissing him passionately, her fingers anxiously trying to unbutton his shirt.

Joe grabbed her hands and held them with one hand. “Hold on just a minute Miss Tiffany. We still have a matter of importance to discuss first.”

“Sheriff Joe O’Riley, nothing can be more important that dipping your stick,” she said as she tried to wiggle free so she could start undressing him again.

“Yes.there is. Your kidnapping, which I am beginning to believe was faked and Red helped you,” Joe stated.  "For twenty-five dollars and a fuck."

Joe could feel the change in her body stance and the way it slightly trembled.

“I have no clue what you are talking about,” she said innocently

“Miss Tiffany, you have one chance to confess or suffer the consequences.”

When she just stared at him innocently, Joe continued to hold her hands in one of his as he led her toward the kitchen. Pulling out a kitchen chair Joe sat down and took her across his lap, delivering several blows to her ass.

“The truth,” Joe demanded as he brought his hand down again. “I don’t think I am getting through to you because there are too many layers of clothing protecting your bottom.

Reaching down he started gathering her skirt and several petticoats, flipping them over her head until he reached his target – her bottom, covered with bloomers this time, but they easily came down.

This time when his hand connected, Miss Tiffany let out a squeal of pain but refused to admit the truth so Joe landed another one a bit harder on her upper thighs. After several hard smacks, Joe was beginning to wonder if he would ever get the truth out of her when he felt something warm and wet on his inner thigh. Joe tentatively touched her honeypot and found her very wet.

He smiled as he realized he now held the key to Miss Tiffany telling the truth. She was bracing herself for more blows on her already stinging ass but when he ran his finger down her ass to her wet honey pot she almost wiggled off his lap.

Chuckling, Joe said, “Appears someone’s honeypot is very wet and needs a stick to stir it, like this,” as he slowly slid his finger inside, moving it back and forth.

Joe found her clit and rubbed it hard, sending her towards her orgasm. Joe took her to the edge and stopped, delivering two more hard smacks causing her to cry out.

Before either could say or do anything, a loud pounding was heard on the front door of her quarters. “Miss Tiffany, is everything okay? I heard you scream. You don’t answer me I am going to break the door down. No one is going to hurt Miss Tiffany or any of my girls.”

“If you don’t want Mac to see you in a compromising position with your ass showing, tell him you are okay,” Joe said softly

“Mac, we are okay. I just dropped a book on my foot. Go back to the bar. The girls need you to watch over them. The sheriff and I will be out soon.”

“Okay, Miss Tiffany,” Mac said as he shuffled off to the bar.

Once he was gone, Joe shoved two fingers up her honey pot, finger fucking her until just before the moment of release, then stopped and delivered two more hard smacks to her upper thighs.

“The truth,” Joe demanded again. “Tell me and I will dip my stick in your honey pot so hard and deep you will see fireworks when you cum.”

Unbuttoning several small buttons he finally had the front of her dress lose enough that her breasts popped free of her chemise. He reached under her and pinched a nipple while sliding a finger in and out until she felt like she was going to explode into a thousand pieces, but, as before, Joe stopped, his cock straining to get free.

That was her breaking point - she could not stand another 'almost cum', she needed the real thing.

“Okay! Okay, I hired Red to meet me at the line cabin to tie me up so it would look like I was kidnapped to get your attention. I had planned to seduce you, but I did not fuck him.” Miss Tiffany admitted. “Hell, I had to do something to get you alone so I could get you to dip your stick.”

“That is all you had to do,” he said as he let her up. “If you had just admitted it your ass would not be on fire.”

Standing up Joe removed his hat and gun belt, laying them on the chair, then began to remove the rest of his clothing while she stood there and watched, her eyes widening in amazement at his seven-inch thick stirring stick.

Looking at her, Joe smiled and said, “I sure in the hell cannot stir your honey pot with all those damn clothes on, or suckle your breasts right."

Miss Tiffany didn’t need another invitation as she struggled to get out of her clothes to join Joe in bed. Once in bed Joe rolled her onto her back and began to suckle her nipples, licking, and pinching her nipples, his hand dipping down to stroke her to make sure she was ready.

Nudging her legs apart with his left knee, he guided himself inside, giving her time to adjust to his length and width. He began a slow rhythm as she wrapped her legs around his waist. As he slowly brought them to the top, he leaned down, biting and sucking her nipples. Miss Tiffany had been with many men but none had ever made her feel the way Joe was doing.

Suddenly he grabbed her hands and held them above her head, nipping her neck as he began to thrust harder, the bed creaking with each hard thrust.

Miss Tiffany began to buck her hips as she found herself hurling over the edge, screaming, “fuck me, Joe! Stir my honeypot good!” as she felt herself explode into a thousand pieces, lights flashing in her mind, cunt quivering out of control as her body twitched and convulsed.

Her intense orgasm was too much for Joe to handle and he found himself spiraling out of control as he shot streams of cum into her twitching honey pot. Sated, Joe collapsed on top of her, kissing her lips, then rolled to the side, pulling her close as they rested.

Outside the door, too low for the ones inside to hear, a deep voice said, “Bout time Miss Tiffany met her match,” as he lumbered down the hallway to his room. He had his own honeypot waiting for him in his bed.