A Familiar Stranger Ch. 01

My name is Chloe Phillips. Up until a few months ago, I lived here on a good sized horse ranch in the middle of nowhere, East Texas. I had inherited the ranch from my Father and lived here along with Anna the cook/housekeeper and Jamison the ranch manager. Jamison had been my father's good friend and ranch foreman for as long as I could remember. Though at least fifteen years my Father's junior, when I was a little girl, it had always been my Father and Jamison, they were like brothers. While my Father was warm, loving, and generous to a fault, Jamison often seemed his direct opposite. Tall, barrel-chested with deeply tanned skin from his hours working outdoors, Jamison was an attractive man, not what I would have called handsome, but he had a rugged attractiveness and strength that women seemed to like.

It was soon after my eighteenth birthday that my Father died unexpectedly. It was Jamison who was there to comfort and reassure me that he'd be there to help me. I remember how after my Father's funeral, when the people paying their respects had left, I was crying when Jamison encircled me in his arms, pulled me to him and kissed me gently on the mouth, slipping his tongue between my quivering lips. I felt myself momentarily succumb to the warmth and pleasant sensations, but gathering my wits I pushed him away, surprised by his kiss and ashamed of my response. In all the time I had known him, Jamison had never done or said anything inappropriate toward me.

Though not what I would call beautiful, I knew I was a pretty girl that men found appealing; small stature, full perky breasts with wide, dark areolas accentuated by long, thick nipples; long reddish brown hair, big blue eyes, flat belly, and a slim waist. I think from the time I was about eighteen and becoming more and more aware of men and their "needs," I had sensed Jamison's attraction to me. Not surprised by my rebuff, and I'm sure not wanting to frighten me Jamison stood silently looking at me . . . a strange almost hungry look in his eyes.

Clearing his throat he took a deep breath and said, "Everything will be okay, Chloe. Remember, I'll be here with you."

Jamison stayed on taking care of the ranch for me just as he always had for my Father and though we never talked about the kiss, I never forgot it.

*****

I first met Frank Pendleton, a strait-laced, religious man, years ago, when I was a student and away at school. I was a young, impressionable girl, open to meeting new people and eager for new experiences. Frank was the English professor, quite a bit older than me and in a lot of ways reminded me of my Father. Surprisingly, since graduating school, we had stayed in touch through letters and over the next year, or so I had fancied myself in love with him. I married Frank six months ago.

Frank was a writer and spent most of his time in the small bungalow behind the house writing and researching articles for newspapers throughout the country. Soon after our marriage, I found out that Frank was an invariant gambler and though this fact was disconcerting, I loved him and my life was settling into a comfortable routine with Frank. I looked forward to spending the rest of my life with him.

Frank was the only man I had been with sexually, and I naively thought what he did, how he did it and how often he did it was the way it was supposed to be between a man and his wife. Not really knowing any difference, I naturally accepted the sexual intimacy between us; Frank would roll on top of me, and I would spread my legs for him. He would shove his often semi-hard cock into me and quickly ejaculate, leaving me feeling sad, frustrated, unsatisfied, and not quite knowing why.

Our marriage proved to be uneventful and predictable, the typical marital relationship for that time; Missionary sex once a week, quiet, quick lovemaking, him making all of the decisions, and my wifely acquiescence to his wishes expected.

Those dreams for our future together came crashing down when late one afternoon, Frank went for a ride on a horse he had recently acquired and didn't return. That evening, his horse came back riderless. A small group of men searched most of the night to no avail, but when they resumed the search early the next morning, they found Frank's body perhaps a mile or two from the house, his horse had apparently been spooked and thrown Frank, breaking his neck. I was barely twenty years old and already a widow.

As the year drew to its end, the pain over Frank's dead began to soften, but at unexpected times the hurt and loneliness would surface and plunge me into fits of crying and sadness. Friends urged me to move away, to even move back East where an uncle and aunt resided. After thinking it over for a while, I decided to stay here, on my ranch. Having been raised here on the ranch since I'd been born, the ranch was all I knew. The only time I had been away was when my father sent me away to Mrs. Pritchard's School for Young Ladies. I felt safe, and knowing Jamison would be here with me made me comfortable and reasonably confident in my decision to stay.

*****

That spring, Jamison received a wire from his sister telling him that his brother was very ill and had been asking for him to come for what could be the last visit. Jamison hadn't seen his brother in well over five years and was torn between making the trip and leaving me alone. I didn't want Jamison to miss what could be his last opportunity to see his brother and finally convinced him that I would be fine. He estimated he would be gone perhaps two months and wanted to hire a farm hand to help out though. I was convinced that this wasn't necessary and that I could handle things myself but reluctantly agreed to hire someone to help out in Jamison's absence.

Jamison would lay in all the supplies and the additional animal feed I would need, do a good maintenance check around the ranch to make sure nothing would go array in his absence, and he would be sure and let the Sheriff know that I was out here alone and that he would be gone for a while.

Jake Singletary a long time trouble maker and malcontent had been in town the day Jamison boarded the train to begin his journey to see his brother. Jake, a man who never lacked for enemies, had gotten into a bar brawl the night before and thrown into jail. As fate would have it, he had just been released, when he overheard Jamison talking with the Sheriff, explaining that he would be gone for a while and that I would be at the ranch alone. Jamison and the Sheriff were old friends, and Jamison asked the sheriff as a favor to stop by and check up on me while he was gone. That bit of information, coupled with some old gambling debts that had been owed him by my husband, apparently set Jake on his course of collecting what he felt was owed to him.

A few days after Jamison's departure, I was in the front room dusting when a loud knocking at the door startled me. Because I was alone and isolated out here, Jamison had always cautioned me to have a shotgun within reach and adding for emphasis, "You never know what kind of varmint you might run into."

With his cautionary words of wisdom ringing in my head, I picked up the shotgun that sat next to the front door and opened it.

Trying to look and sound as formidable as I could (which was difficult to do since I was not physically very intimidating, hell . . . still more a girl than a woman) confronted the stranger, "who are you . . . what do you want?" I asked, holding the gun out in front of me. For some reason, the stranger seemed fleetingly familiar, but I let the thought go bye.

"Hey, hey . . . be careful where you point that thing, Mrs. Pendleton," he said. Wanting to make a good first impression and secure her trust, Jake smiled broadly and introduced himself.

"My name is Jake Singletary, and I have a small cattle ranch near the county line, he lied. I'm back and forth between my place and town once sometimes twice a week, and Jamison asked me if I could maybe stop by and check on you if I had the time," he lied again.

"You know Jamison? He's never mentioned you." I said, my suspicion peaked.

"Can't say that surprises me. Even though Jamison and I have known each other for a while, we don't get to talk much, what with him being out here most of the time working on your ranch."

I stood silently watching him . . .

"Oh, by the way, he quickly added, I noticed when I rode up that the gate around the hog pen was swinging open, probably a sprung closure. Saw three of your hogs were running free. If it's ok, I'll take a look at that gate and round up those hogs before I leave," he said.

"No, no . . . you don't have to do that," I protested.

"My pleasure, after all I promised Jamison I'd look out for you. Now I don't want to hear any more about it," he said with an infectious grin playing across his face, which made me feel more comfortable with him being here.

Over the next two weeks, Jake stopped by two, three more times. Always friendly, concerned and helpful, I unwisely let my guard down and welcomed his visits and his attention. Looking back now, if I had even suspected his plans for me and my ranch, maybe the future would have been different.

*****

Growing confident, it wasn't long, before Jake showed his true self.

Very early one morning, claiming he was on his way into town, he had stopped by to see how things were going. Peeking through the kitchen window, I saw it was Jake and though only wearing my nightgown without hesitating, I went to let him in. No sooner had I opened the front door, when he roughly, suddenly pushed me back into the house and slammed the door closed. Before it registered what was happening, Jake had me pinned against the wall as he hurriedly lifted my nightgown, spread my legs apart with his knee and forcefully pushed himself inside me.

My eyes went as big as saucers and I began to scream.

Jake covered my mouth. "Stop screaming! I don't want to hurt you Chloe, but I will if you scream again." The look on his face, the sound of his voice I was terrified and willed myself to be silent. I hadn't had sex since my husband's death, and Jake's cock as he grew bigger and thrust deeper into my small tight pussy was uncomfortable, quickly reducing me to tears. Seeing the tears, he paused and stopped thrusting.

I remember whimpering, unable to control the rising sense of hysteria and panic. . . "please, stop . . . don't do this."

"Why are you doing this, Jake?" I asked, hot tears streaming down my face. Ignoring my pleas, he wouldn't look at me. I could feel the roughhewn wall rubbing against my bare ass as his weight pressed against me, holding me captive. Inside me, his cock began to twitch and pulse, and when he started to thrust, I was literally lifted onto my toes with each forceful plunge of his member.

It went on like that for several minutes, his thrusting and the sounds of his accompanying grunts filling the quiet of the kitchen.

"Why, Jake?" I asked again, this time in an almost whisper. Then in a final burst of defiance, I screamed out at the indignity and humiliation only to become quiet and meek when within seconds my sex hungry body trembled as an orgasm washed over me in hot waves. I wasn't quite sure what had just happened, it had never happened with Frank. My body was betraying me, and I began to cry renewed tears even as my hips arched and started to sway, pushing against Jake, wanting, and needing to meet his thrusts. I could feel the sensations moving upward from my pussy to my breasts and down the back of my legs, making my thighs twitch and my pussy contract hard around his cock.

My legs buckled under me, and Jake literally held me up against the wall like a limp ragdoll as he continued to fuck me. It had never been like this with my husband Frank, and I was frightened and traumatized by what was happening. I could hear myself whimpering as Jake pressed his mouth close to my face and said, "That's it, Chloe . . . don't fight me . . . don't fight me."

He started to groan, and after several hard jerks, he spurted cum inside me, finally releasing himself into the warm softness of my beckoning pussy.

He picked me up and carrying me to the kitchen table, sat me in one of the chairs. Adjusting his pants, he stood over me as I continued crying quietly to myself. I didn't know this man, and yet I had cum for him. My husband had been gone a little over a year, and obviously my body had not forgotten the feel of a man's hands or the satisfaction of a man's cock inside me.

Watching him move about the room, it dawned on me who he was, why he had seemed so familiar. His name was Jake, Jake Singletary. Very tall, perhaps 6'2", roguishly attractive, hard-muscled and fit from a lifetime of hard work. Wavy dark hair, steely, piercing grey eyes, and a thin aquiline nose that contrasted with his full sensual lips. He had owned a small spread near Tyler that he had lost due to a defaulted mortgage and other debts, and had been hiring out as a cowboy and ranch hand for the last year or so.

Frank said something before his death about having trouble with a neighboring cowboy. Without telling me who it was, Frank and this cowboy had gotten into a heated argument having to do with him accusing Frank of cheating him out of his winnings in a card game. He had sworn he would get even with Frank, but I never heard anything else about it and just figured he and Frank had resolved their differences. It had become crystal clear who the "cowboy" was . . . it was Jake Singletary.

Suddenly he barked at me, "Stop crying! I know you wanted me to fuck you, I knew that the day I ran into you in town. You don't even remember meeting me before, do you? You were with him, that prissy husband of yours, but you kept looking at me. Hell, you being married to that old man, I knew what to do, what you needed and made up my mind to give it to you."

I began shaking my head side to side, silently denying what he was saying. Reaching down, he took hold of my chin and lifted my head, forcing me to look up at him, "Stop blubbering! I could tell you wanted it. You were moaning like a bitch from the minute I stuck my cock in you," he said, before bending forward and kissing me hard on the mouth.

He walked across the room and began gathering up his things, and with a sigh of relief, I thought he was preparing to leave, to get out. As he approached the front door, he turned and said, "There are some things I need to take care of, but I'll be back tonight."

"No! No, don't you ever come here again," I shouted out impulsively . . . angrily.

"After what you just did to me, how could you ever think about coming here again? You'll go to prison you bastard, for what you've done . . . . I'll tell the Sheriff; I'll tell everyone."

He looked at me as if I were some pathetic creature babbling incoherently, making ideal threats.

"No, Chloe . . . your husband's memory and your reputation are too important to you, you won't breathe a word of this to anyone. I guess you could call it payback for what your husband tried to do. Guess he didn't tell you that this ranch was going to be mine. Your husband gambled and lost and then tried to renege on his bet".

From what I had pieced together, Frank and Jake had entered into some type of arrangement involving the ranch that had arisen from a gambling debt. Soon after Frank's death, Jake presented documents at the county clerk's office that clearly showed a change in the deed title, making the ranch his.

"You and I are going to become very, very good friends Chloe. I'm going to run the ranch for you, I know you're attached to Jamison so I'll keep him on as the foreman if he wants to stay, but I will be the one in charge."

"You're crazy if you think I'd let that happen . . . crazy!" I said.

"Oh, trust me, little girl, it'll happen and as simple as it might sound, there's nothing you can do to stop it. Your husband cheated at cards, but I still managed to win this place fair and square, but the cheating bastard tried to back out on the bet, and I swore I'd get even. I knew if I bided my time and waited for the right opportunity, I'd have this ranch, and I'd have you if I wanted."

"Get out! Get out," I screamed.

Jake came toward me and I tried to scurry away from him. Reaching out, he caressed my cheek and tenderly wiped away the tears. "You're my little bitch now, Chloe," he said. I tried to pull away when he slipped his hand down between my legs and added, "This pussy belongs to me, and in a few weeks, this ranch will legally belong to me too."

The days passed slowly, and each morning I arose expectantly hoping this would be the day the Sheriff came to check on me. But he didn't come.

It seemed Jake had won and successfully coerced my submission.

*****

My nipples grew aroused and hard as I stood naked in front of him. My shame was clearly reflected in the pink blush that colored my chest and blossomed on my cheeks. Jake's cock would jerk every few seconds; it's head so engorged it was an angry dark red color. His breathing sounded labored and shallow when without speaking, he turned me around and bent me slightly forward. I could feel the warmth of his hard thighs pressed against my ass as he probed for entry, forcing my swollen pink pussy lips apart and finally coaxing his cock inside me. With each thrust, he slid his cock further into my body, and in spite of what was happening, I marveled at how wet I was and how easily my pussy was accommodating each violating inch of him.

Jake was still holding me tightly from behind, and I could feel the swing of his balls against my ass as he continued to stretch me, fill me with each thrust. I moaned from the feel of him stroking in and out, teasing me before pulling out and indicating he wanted me on the bed.

His cock stood straight out from his body, he placed me on my back and reentered me in two hard thrusts that made me cry out with a pleasure that was tempered only by the self-loathing I felt for wanting him; it had never been like this with my husband.

"Jake . . . Jake," I whimpered as he mercilessly fucked into me, impaling me on his cock. Gasping, moaning I fell into rhythm with his thrusts and orgasmed only seconds before he stiffened and shot his cum load deep inside me. He came and came, finally emptying himself and slumping exhausted on top of me. His large, sweaty body covered mine and it wasn't until his cock softened, and his cum began to seep out of me did he roll off, take me in his arms and fall asleep, the sound of his light snoring filling the room.

*****

Over the next week, Jake had for all intent and purpose moved into the main ranch house. The first couple of nights he had slept in one of the spare rooms, but late one night had come to my room and after "convincing" me to have sex with him told me he would be sharing my bed from then on.

I lay there afterward, remembering how he had come into the darkened room, thrown the covers off the bed and mounted me as if I were one of his mares. Trying to push him off, I had screamed, only to have him with an open hand, slap me across the face before he slid his cock into me and satisfied himself.

I'm sure he meant more to shock than hurt me, but just the same, at the time, I thought all I could do was submit. Though disgusted and repulsed, my pussy muscles inevitably began squeezing and releasing around his cock until he withdrew his softening but still oozing tool, leaving silvery threads of cum to dry on my thighs and between my legs.

Things went on like this for several weeks until the time for Jamison's return neared. After one particularly contentious night in bed with Jake, I made up my mind I would leave and make my way to town the next morning and tell the Sheriff what had been happening here. Jamison would be returning from his trip in two days, and in addition to the Sheriff, I wanted to make sure Jamison knew everything. I decided to take the buggy since riding horseback that distance would be too uncomfortable. I probably wouldn't reach town until afternoon, but I was determined to get away from Jake, turn him over to the Sheriff and to have my life back.