Jenny White Feather a rapestory post civil war

    Circa: 6 December 1866 one year after the end of the Civil
War.


    The Indian wars were not as dynamic as the penny novels would
have people believe, but there was strife between the whites and
the Indians. Occasional skirmishes touched the daily lives of
average people not involved in the great wars between famous
chiefs and famous generals.

    The War Between The States had just ended when Jenny's
parents decided to leave their failing estate in Georgia. Jenny
had just become of marriageable age and was distraught at moving,
just as men became interested in her. With the end of the war
the sudden influx of marriageable young men thrilled her. She
became the center of attention in no time, and had even been the
reason for several fights for her attention. Jenny thrilled at
all the excitement, her father didn't.
    In the 1800's when a father said we are leaving, the family
left. After a long bout of despondency, Jenny was again thrilled
when they stepped off the stage at St Louis and she saw hundreds
of young men for as far as she could see. The hustle and bustle
of a wide open country being settled left her many choices for
dating, necking, and other adventures. Unfortunately, her father
and mother kept a close eye on her and she seldom found the
freedom to sneak away on her own. But when she did, it was
wonderful.

    The trip west was horrible. The wagon was unbearably hot,
the dust coated the wagon, Jenny, and everything else in sight
continually. She bathed liberally, whenever she could. But the
unreasonable wagon master would not allow her to bathe when water
was short. She usually found a damp rag to wipe down her golden
body each night. It was not the life she had pictured for
herself just a few short weeks before. She wanted tubs of
sweetly scented water, bright gas lights, the plink of a piano,
and voices raised in joy and laughter. Her father was taking her
farther and farther from all these things she loved, and forcing
her to endure unbearable conditions. Jenny was outraged, but
helpless to act.
    Tip Wilson was a young, dashing man on a white horse. Any
westerner would have told Jenny that only a damned fool rides a
white horse in Indian country, but Jenny knew nothing about
western ways. So when Tip offered to take Jenny away from all
this and take her to Los Angeles on his white horse, Jenny found
his offer perfectly reasonable, and breathtaking. She accepted
his offer and managed to sneak away on a warm August night.
    Things began going wrong on the very first night. Tip had
packed enough food in his saddle bags for a week of travel. He
planned on shooting game on the way to make their precious
supplies last. On the first day they saw Indians. This made
shooting, and returning to the wagon train, impossible. Tip lit
out on his white horse with Jenny bobbing in the rear, holding on
for dear life. She suddenly found that saddles were not designed
for two people and riding double was probably the most
uncomfortable way to ride in the world.
    They finally stopped for the night by a river. Tip made
several attempts at starting a fire and failed. They ate cold
fried chicken and biscuits, while huddled in the darkness
watching the skyline in fear.

    "Tip, why don't we go back?" Jenny begged for the seventh
time.
    Tip wanted to go back but two things were stopping him. He
badly wanted to sample Jenny's lith, shapely body first, and he
was afraid of the Indians which he knew were between them and the
wagons. If he was right, the Indians were keeping an eye on the
wagon train and would intercept him before he could reach the
train.
    "Don't give up, Jen. We are only about a thousand miles from
Los Angeles. We can make it in two weeks."
    "I don't think we will ever make it," Jenny moaned. "It
hurts to ride behind that saddle."
    "Come on, let's get some sleep. You'll feel better in the
morning," Tip said eagerly.
    "But there are only two blankets and you're using them both."
    "We can snuggle for warmth."
    "You mean to tell me that you only brought blankets for you?"
Jenny was outraged.
    "Oh, come on Jen, we can share," Tip said in his nasal whine.
    "Tip, you ride on by yourself in the morning, I'll wait here
for the wagons to show up and go on to San Francisco with my
parents," Jenny said resolutely. She sat against a cottonwood
and hugged her knees with her arms. Tip called several times,
but she ignored him. Jenny knew what Tip wanted now, she was
surprised that she couldn't see it before. The bad thing was
that Tip was willing to risk their lives to get it, and that was
unforgivable.

    Jenny actually fell asleep by the cottonwood tree some time
during the night. So it was with complete surprise and terror
that she awoke to see a painted Indian face before her. She
jumped up, but the Indian tackled her and wrestled her to the
ground. Tip stood up and shouted, then screamed when an arrow
pierced his chest going clear through his body and protruding
from his back. He fell to the ground sobbing and until a stone
axe fell across the top of his head. Tip buckled to the ground
without a sound. As his legs kicked in the dirt, Jenny realized
that Tip was really dead. She had never see a dead person
before. It was horrible.
    "You dirty bastards," Jenny yelled, kicking at anyone who
approached her. They laughed and circled around, then one Indian
came up behind her and pushed her to the ground. Before Jenny
could pull her face out of the dirt, she felt rough hands lifting
the back of her dress. Her pantaloons were ripped from her body,
cold hands gripped her bare ass, and fingers probed her rectum.
    Screaming in outrage, Jenny kicked and tried to get up, but
firm hands held her down and parted her soft white legs.
Suddenly, painfully, she felt a huge throbbing prick at the
entrance to her pussy. Her eyes widened as it pressed
relentlessly into her virgin loins, tearing and smashing her
virginity away in cruel, savage strokes. ......can you guess the rest ? read rape stories at smuterotica enter here

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