The Sheriff the Rapist and the Child Whore

Sheriff John McLoud lounged in his office chair, his hat tipped forward over his forehead as protection from the harsh sun light, his hand resting on his gun as was his habit.

He thought about doing the rounds of the local bars, checking on the whores and all the other onerous duties of a new territories Sheriff but he couldn’t be bothered, so he just sat there.

Around three o’clock Jake Bannister arrived in a tearing hurry, “Sheriff, Sheriff, come quick, Widder Mason been raped!”

“You sure?” he asked, “Why she has to be fifty and she bigger round than a barn door!”

“In the night Sheriff,” Jake explained.

“You get a description?” he asked.

“Sure, twelve inches long at least and three round,” Jake explained.

“Negro, white, Irish, what we talking about here?” he demanded.

“It was dark,” Jake explained patiently.

“It damned well must have been!” the Sheriff agreed, “So lets round up the Negroes, do an identity check.”

“Why Negroes, you racist or something?” Jake asked.

“You want your weenie examined?” he replied, “That old bitch staring at your crotch while your weenie curls up like some French Snail?”

“Still sounds Racist,” Jake agreed.

“Ok, round up everyone with a ten inch cock and above.” the Sheriff suggested, “Go up to guys and say ‘Say, you got a ten inch cock,’ see how long you get to keep some teeth.”

“We could get a girl to do it,” Jake suggested, “One of the pretty girls from the saloon, she could help out, we could deputise her.”

“Sure,” the Sheriff replied, “That’s a swell new name for it, you thinking of bending her over the desk and poking her ass while she licks my cock?”

“We could swap over half way through?” Jake suggested.

“Or we could do some real work,” the Sheriff declared, “But lets do it, get a whore to ask the guys how big they gets.”

“We could ask at the whore house,” Jake suggested, “Just ask the girls who has a ten inch plus cock.”

“Girls don’t have, cocks, except down in Mexico,” the Sheriff explained patiently, “Oh right, I got you,” he added quickly as he realised what Jake meant.

“I guess the girls will lie, how would they know a ten inch cock?” Jake asked.

“You got a point there,” the Sheriff agreed, and he sat his hat straight on his head, “Lets find us a Negro.”

They never had far to look, Erasmus was sitting in the shade of the front porch with his shoe shine kit, brand new never used since he moved from Florida a year ago, but it was what he did.

“Hey Rasmus, you got a ten inch cock?” the Sheriff asked.

“Not looking at your ugly face boss,” he replied.

“We need a ten inch cock to take a mould off of,” the Sheriff insisted.

“Well you find a pretty lady to suck me and I’ll show her twelve inches of man meat!” he exclaimed.

The whore house was quiet like a morgue, “Thirteen thirteens is one hundred and fifty seven, fourteen thirteens is,” a childlike voice was chanting.

“Dolores, oldest child whore in Carson County,” Jake explained, “Hey Dolly get down here.”

“Oh sir, I can’t, I’m wearing my nightie,” she trilled, “Ok it’s off,” and she tripped lightly down the stairs, “Oh, it’s you,” she said as she stood there completely naked, her small girlish breasts tiny mounds on an otherwise flat chest, her blonde hair in little piggy tails like she was a school kid.

“We got a job for you,” Jake explained.

“I don’t take no cock up my ass, no way,” Dolores insisted, “Not for nobody!”

“We don’t want to.” the Sheriff explained.

“Then what which way you want to do this three way?” she asked.

“We want to know which guys have twelve inch cocks Dolly,” the Sheriff explained.

She laughed, “Gee you must have a loose ass Sheriff!” she tittered.

The Sheriff gritted his teeth, “Not for me!” he insisted.

“You want to stop by one day honey,” Dolly suggested, “Let me straighten you out!”

“Some guy with a twelve inch cock raped widow Mason at her ranch,” the Sheriff explained, “So we need to do an identity parade.”

“You must be plum loco,” Dolores sighed, “I’ll go get dressed.” She went back upstairs reciting the list of Kings of Englnd and soon came down wearing a pay school uniform from back east. Blazer white shirt, tie, black skirt and polished shoes.

“Gee,” Jake gasped.

“That’s you on the list then,” the Sheriff laughed as Jake’s cock visibly swelled.

“Well you sure ain’t,” Dolly countered with a sneer.

Dolly agreed to ask around later that evening but first they went to find Erasmus, he was still waiting on the porch. “You want to come down the blacksmith?” the Sheriff asked.

“Nope but I guess I must,” he agreed.

They went down Eli Brown’s blacksmith shop, “We want a bronze cast of Erasmus’s cock.” the Sheriff said.

“Okay, you want a bronze cock?” he asked, “Where the hell do you think I can get bronze?”

They looked around at each other, “Whats so special about his cock anyway?”

“Ten inches?” Jake offered.

“Look,” Eli said and he reached under a bench, “Cast iron cocks, for the widows see, ten, twelve, fourteen inches right up to.”

“Jesus!” Dolly gasped as she saw the huge monstrosity Eli was handling.

“It’s a Table Leg darling,” he explained, “We got cocks up to twenty four inch ready to use, just need the rust gotten off and a coat of paint.”

“We’ll take a twelve,” the Sheriff agreed.

“Good choice,” Eli said, “But get rid that rust Sheriff or you’ll be shitting blood and then die.”

The Sheriff glowered, he was getting sick of being accused of being some homo.

“Sure thing, I’ll get you a check sometime,” the Sheriff said and he stuffed the iron cock in his belt and they went back to the jail house.

Eli shrugged, “Check who’s he kidding,” he moaned as the sheriff had a well earned reputation for not paying his dues.

“I guess you better fetch Widow Twankey,” the Sheriff said.

“Widder Mason,” Jake corrected, “This is serious.”

“Sounds like a pantomime to me,” Dolly admitted, “But you get the widow and the Sheriff can rub his cock.”

“Oh funny,” the Sheriff sniped, “Why don’t you rub it?”

“You say the cutest things!” Dolly laughed, “But I guess I’ll pass.”

Sheriff McLoud sat on the porch rubbing the rusty iron cock with sandpaper and a wire brush while half the town fell around with laughing at him, not that they let him see them laughing and then finally with the cock polished he gave it a coat of black lead paint.

“You finished rubbing your cock?” Dolly asked later.

“Sure,” he admitted, “Where’s Jake?”

“He’s coming,” she confirmed, “Only that old goat don’t waddle too fast.”

He had to agree, but the steps started creaking and Widow Mason waddled in, the Sheriff sighed.