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Davy and Evie
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Davy and Evie Davy Stoddard walked into Hoss Harry's Saloon in Cheyenne, Wyoming, pausing at the swinging doors to swallow his fear as subtly as he could muster before he fixed his eyes on the first open bar stool. Trying to affix a swagger in his stride, he made his way through a bevy of tables loaded with various folks whose faces reported their lives like old newsprint. Most of their eyes looked as if they were wanted somewhere for something and glared at him as if he was the instrument of their calling to a docket. A few more jumpy souls dropped their drinks to the table to ready a trigger finger. Slinging his possessions, trundled into a gunny sack, over his shoulder, His eyes fell to the women sitting with men at tables, fanning themselves and smiling at him automatically. He smiled and looked them over. Hoss Harry’s had a rep. He was eighteen, slightly built and without a gun. He wore no star on his new gingham shirt and could barely muster a few chin whiskers to make him look any older. The jumpy fellows returned their grips to their glasses. The other men on the trail up from Abilene had given him the nickname, Milquetoast as a result of his youth and his naivety about the ardors of the long ride driving 70 head of cattle north to the slaughterhouses that would process them into dried jerkstrip and saddle leather, destined for the 7th Cavalry units up in Oregon chasing the elusive Chief Joseph into Canada. It was his first cattle drive, his first time of note away from home and, he had decided after getting paid, his last time. The route up from Kansas was rough, his cohorts merciless in their chiding and joking at his expense, despite his holding up his end of the job. He was tired, twenty pounds lighter than when he started. But $125 richer. It was the most money he had ever held in his hand in his young life. The men had particularly ribbed him for not knowing a woman in the Biblical sense. Early on the trail, he got caught trying to diddle with himself under his bedroll and never heard the end of it. Every time he would shy away from the men to water the chaparral, inevitably one of them would catcall to the others about ole Milquetoast firing his gun off and hitting nothing again. Cognizant of the old hands watching him for another such session, he had relented from doing that again. It was a thing he had liked to do very much at home, in the privacy of his room, which he was luckier than many in that he did not share it with a sibling. Now after twenty days of being saddle-sore, poked fun at, worked like a slave, and finally paid in full, he bellied up to the bar and sat there waiting for someone to prod him into what he should do next. He had never been in a saloon before. “Boy, I hope your mama sent you with enough of her egg money to pay.” A gruff, heavily bearded man, a behemoth whose face and slight accent gave him away as a Russian from up Alaska way. A couple of mangy drunks next to Davy snickered. He drew in a deep breath and tried his best grown-man’s glare. “I got at least two pennies from her satchel. That’s more than enough to buy this crumby place and two just like it, ain’t it?” He smiled and tossed a silver dollar on the bar. The barkeep smiled and pointed at him to a fellow to whom he had been talking. “Ain’t old enough to piss a hole in the ground yet. But he gonna sass me in my own joint.” He chuckled. His name was Peodor but everyone for a hundred miles knew him as Hoss Harry. Wiping his hands on a towel that Davy looked at and reckoned did more harm than good cleaning off those big Russian hands, Hoss sauntered over to him and propped up a giant boot on crate. “We ain’t got no milk and biscuits in here, sonny.” “That’s great to hear. I was hoping for a rye and some company.” Davy smiled like a man, but inside his boy’s heart pounded. He never had felt so young and out of place. He felt both the casual and the focused gazes of a few dozen patrons prickling on his back. His neck sweated. “Whiskey and cunny, eh?” Hoss roared. “You sure your mama would allow her baby’s meat to be wiped by another woman? You don’t look much like you’re more than five months out of your nappies, Babyface.” “I got cash money and a raging case of the needins, barkeep. I done rode up with seventy head from Kansas. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m thirsty and if you got any tainted doves around here, I’m needing a bath with a friend. I like mine with a bosom if you got any. But if you ain’t, just make sure they’re fresh.” Davy glowered, trying to lie to rest any fresh insults upon his manhood. “I don’t need some old roan old enough to be my mama.” Hoss smiled at the boy’s nuts and pulled up a bottle of Moseby’s. “So be it, young man. You got money, you man enough for me.” He laid a shot glass on the bar. “Leave that bottle, if you please.” Davy said. “That’s two more dollars than your one, sonny.” Davy pocketed the dollar and slapped a ten-dollar gold piece on the bar. “I’ll be taking my bottle to a room, sir.” “Suit yourself.” Hoss stacked another shot glass in the first one and pushed the bottle and the glasses toward the young man, chuckling along with a few of the other drinkers sitting and watching. “For the night, it’s a fiver.” Davy slid the gold coin toward Hoss. “Keep the change. Where’s my bunk?” Hoss pulled a key from a row of keys nailed to the wall behind him. “Number Eight. I’m sending Evie to take care of that bathing for you. You a lucky man she’s free.” “I thank you.” He snatched up the bottle, key and glasses. “What’s the best place to eat around Cheyenne?” “Rooming house four streets over. Name of Regina’s. But don’t you be bringing Evie over there. They don’t take kindly to fallen women eating over at Regina’s. Regina likely shoot you for that.” “Thanks for the warning.” Davy tipped his new Stetson and walked up the stairs. When he was on the other side of the door, he flattened against it, exhaling nervously. For all his bluster, he had never been so scared in his life. Until he realized he had just ordered up a girl for his pleasure. His first time for pleasure. Then, his apprehension turned to sheer giddy panic. Not knowing what to do, his first thought was to hit the privy. It had been weeks since he saw a proper WC. When he was finished, he paced around the room, wondering what protocols one took when a woman of leisure was on her way. There was a tub in a parlor room with a wood-burning stove still smoldering from whoever left the room prior. A hand pump was fixed to pour fresh water from a cistern into a giant pail left full on the stove. A sort of pipe-funnel contraption was fixed to the lip of the pail so someone could sit in the tub, push a lever, and let in some hot water by gravity at his want. He put some kindling in the stove and got a flame blown up. Truth be told, he would just as easily been satisfied to sit in a cold bath. The sun was a never-ending menace to him on the trail. Cool was better than hot but he figured hot baths were the norm. Besides, his nerves were wired with all kinds of thoughts about his prick’s appearance to a woman for the first time. More than one, he had come out of a river and found all his manhood shriveled and soaked up in his crotch. It was a curiosity of the loins that he did not understand, but it made him laugh to see. If it were funny for him to see, a woman would definitely laugh. Just as the hands he rode up with had laughed. When he had the water in the tub near about where he thought was warm enough and deep enough to use, he pored himself a shot of the rye. It burned like hell. But he figured it was normal and poured himself another. Just as the second wave of fiery steadiness hit his craw, a polite knock at the door startled him. He stood still, trying to gauge something of the woman just be replaying the sound of the demure knock. His heart pounded and he felt his loins respond in kind to the rush of blood. Evie, the barkeep had said...her name’s Evie. “Hello?” He spoke aloud. “You ask for some company?” The voice was small, dainty. “Hold on. Be right there, ma’am.” He winced at his tone. Ma’am sounded so much like a young un’s reply. Today, he was a man, not a young un, by God. He took a pull of the rye from the neck and stared at himself in the shaving mirror. “You’re a man, Davy Stoddard.” He whispered to his reflection. The faded shine of the mirror made him look older. “Be a man.” Sighing deeply to steady his nerves, he wiped his sweating palms repeatedly on his denim pants before he opened the door. There stood Evie. She was gnawing on a piece of horehound candy. Young, Davy was happy to see. Something about her said…nervous, he thought perhaps. “Ma’am.” He took off his hat and laid it nervously across his chest. Wondering how obvious his prick was jutting through his pants, he almost covered it with his hat instead. “Might I come in?” She smiled and threw a hand to her hip as she cocked it to one side. He thought it was contrived. Something she had been taught. He sized her up. She was clad in a frilly red and black bustier with some black leggings that were cinched to a pair of garters that accentuated her white thighs. She had a self-assured smile but behind it, her brow was sweating. Her bosom was large. Her features were soft. Her voice syrupy sweet. She put rouge on her cheeks and some kohl around her eyes, giving her a tint of color on her otherwise pale face. Soft lips, a winning set of teeth…he was glad for that, and bright, smart eyes that beheld him as he did her for a pregnant instant. “Yes, please. You Evie?” “Absolutely.” She walked past him. Her rear cheeks hung delectably from below the fringes of the lacy get-up. Any thoughts he had about hiding his hard pecker were demolished at the sight of those two cheeks. He had never seen an ass before. For that matter, he had never seen anything approaching a get-up like that on a woman, be she ugly or gorgeous as she was. “You drinking all that yourself?” She pointed demurely at the rye as she sashayed by it. “Not if I have some help.” She looked over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “No, honey. Me and whiskey ain’t friendly. There’s some tonic water and a glass in that drawer in that chest beside you. That would be fine.” She walked over and pulled back the covers on the bed casually. “Hoss said you might be looking for some company all night?” “Maybe.” He fumbled about getting some water into a glass, shaking his hands while his heart pounded. Trying to look nonplussed, though, despite his prick pressing a tent in his trousers. “I like that in a man. You kinda young. First time?” She raked her hair out of her face with a long sensuous finger. “It’s okay if it is. We all got one, you know.” He debated whether to lie and decided not to do so. “You be my first, ma’am.” He winced as he said ma’am from habit again. Dang it… “Oh goody! I love that. Means you’re clean. I am, too. Case you’re wondering. I ain’t been at this all that long. For money I mean. I was married, though. He got himself shot about a year ago, so don’t you worry about spoiling another man’s bride. Plenty of men beat you to the punch on that account, of course. But that also means I know what needs to be done and how it should be done.” “That’s good to hear.” He walked over and handed her the glass, the rye bottle in his other hand. “My stars! You best calm that feller down a little bit if you want your dollar’s worth, honey.” She patted her hand on his pecker. “What’s your name?” “Davy.” She gripped his prick through his trousers with her hand and shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Davy.” They both giggled. Her hand was abrupt but felt glorious even in jest. “We’re gonna have some fun, Davy. Don’t fret. I’m an honest . I ain’t out to cheat you, to rob you or give you less than your money’s worth. You paid Hoss pretty nice so you gonna get real nice from Evie. That sound good?” “Beyond good. It’s the most awesome words I ever heard.” They were. Uttered so simply and directly from the painted lips of an angel in his opinion. “I would like to have a bath. I done been on the trail up from Kansas. Rinsing off in some snowmelt ain’t really much measure of a bath.” “You from down Kansas-way?” She took an unfussy draw of the tonic and set it down. Standing up, she offered a laced-gloved hand. “Let’s get that bath drawn.” “I done got it drawed. I figured you wouldn’t want to as much with me smelling like a cattle drive.” He had smelled the men around him for weeks. He figured if he smelled a tenth as bad as they after weeks on a in the sun, it was impossible for any women to be within the length of the Montana Territory from him. “And I’m from Fort Smith, Arkansas originally.” “We get you men like that a lot.” She walked him over to the tub. “It’s sweet you was thinking about it though. Most men don’t care about things like that. You’re just adorable!” His prick flinched in rapid jerks at the sound of that. He was embarrassed about it. Davy could almost feel his seed trying to spurt just from the walk fully clothed to the tub. Evie danced her fingers in the tub, admiringly. “That’s a good temperature.” She opened the stove to check the fire and got another pail heating. Satisfied she had everything in order, she turned to him. “Well, let’s have a look at you, Mister Davy.” He stood motionless. Never having taken off his clothes in front of a woman before, he suddenly felt paralyzed. His hands nervously covered his erection, which he cursed for not going down even though it needed to be that way to get the jollies done. Evie licked her lips subtly and reached out for him as she sat on the lip of the claw-foot tub. “I can help you, if you like. That your first trail drive? You don’t strike me as a regular hand.” “It was. My last, too. I figure there’s gotta be better ways to make a living.” “Poor thing! I bet you’re worn slap out. It’s a hard life, that driving. Here, come here.” She reached over at his feet and patted her gartered thigh. “Gotta get you outta them heavy boots.” He shook his head and kicked them off on the floor. “Wouldn’t be right puttin’ some smelly feet next to something so pretty. I done been in the same woolens for a month. Best I keep most of me away from you until I get scrubbed up. Wouldn’t want you to faint.” He chuckled haltingly. “So sweet! Ain’t you just the sweetest thing!” Evie clasped her hands together and smiled behind her prayer. “Thank you Lord. Handsome and sweet to a ! You was raised right down there in Arkansas. Any more like you down there? I might pick up and move.” He blushed. He did not fancy himself handsome. She took a few steps and grabbed his shirttail, pulled it from his trousers. Unfastening the two buttons by the throat, she leaned forward and kissed him softly between his two nipples, which were as hard as spur spikes under the white gingham. “New shirt?” She pulled it over his head and laid her soft hands on his nipples, feeling his chest. “Yes it is. I figured after being in the same two pairs of clothes, it was time to get some new duds.” “You’re a very handsome man.” She stroked her hands over his belly. “So young. How old are you?” “Eighteen.” “Same as me.” She gave one of his nipples a teasing nip that devolved into a suck and flitter of her pink tongue. He gasped when she slid a hand down his trousers and cupped his balls in her palm, his prick laid against his belly and poking its head from the fabric. “That’s a fine pecker. Make you a proud wife one day, I reckon.” She looked down his pants to examine it with the thoroughness of an auctioneer checking a for defects. “You ain’t been cut, neither. Have to make sure I get that all cleaned up under there for you.” “Are most men cut?” He noticed some of the hands had their nubbins trimmed at birth but had dared not ask about it. “You see it more and more now. Of course, I ain’t seen as many as the older women. But they talk, you know?” “Does it look okay?” He swallowed hard. He had no idea what okay meant. She smiled at him, amused and flirty-like, and with a quick jerk of her free hand had his trousers at his feet. He flinched in her hand reflexively and stood perfectly still, in shock. He was naked with a hard prick in a woman’s hand. Though inside him was a swagger somewhere brought on by the fact that she was paid for and there was no need for formality or even small talk, the newness, that raw exposure of his sex publicly to a woman held him shy and motionless as a body in rigor mortis. “It’s a beautiful cock, Davy.” She leaned forward and kissed it smartly, then released it. “Get in the tub and Evie will get you all ready for what must be done to make it smile. Kick out of them pants. I ain’t gonna bite.” He clumsily released the trousers from his snared feet and staggered into the tub. She dumped in some more hot water and fished a bar of lye soap from a cupboard. “You want another shot of that whiskey, honey?” She called to him as she fetched a towel from beside the bed. “Sounds good.” He relaxed in the warm water, glad his prick had subsided a spell. He watched her gather up everything and come to him. His eyes beheld her buxom glory as she fixed her gaze on him. She held the shot glass mischievously and stuffed in between her breasts as she leaned over him and paused. “Better than anything you ever drank from your mama’s. Come get it.” He leaned forward, feeling the soft skin of her breasts on his cheeks as he wrapped his mouth around the glass and tossed it back. Half of the whiskey sloshed on his chin as he gurgled on the hot rye. She laughed and splashed his face with the bath water. “That’s why I don’t like whiskey. It’s too harsh to swallow in one suck. She rubbed his face softly. “Would you like me to show my titties to you, Davy?” He nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth in fear of saying something dumb. “I’m gonna take all this outfit off. But I’m gonna do it real slow for you. Would you like that?” Again, he nodded. His prick was once again alive. She nodded at it, visible in the suds-free water. “Take your skin back so it can watch, too. I like to think they must just hate sitting in the dark under that skin all the time with nothing so nice as these titties to look at.” “I think you’re right.” “I don’t have to take it off if you don’t want me to yet. I just hate to get my clothes wet when I scrub you down.” “No ma’am. We wouldn’t want that.” He wagered whether to tell her she was the first woman naked he had actually ever seen. He left it unsaid. She sat on the bed, facing him as she unhooked the fastenings holding the leggings up, leaning forward so her bosom would hang down in her bustier. Staring at him, she rolled the leggings down her thighs and calves, smoothly, well practiced, dainty, and provocative. “Raise your hips, honey. Let that prick have some air and let it see what it’s been wanting all its life.” He bucked his hips, holding his pecker out so that it periscoped from the water. “Roll that skin back, baby. Let that eye have a gander at these.” She raised her arms above her head with the bottom of the red and black cover in her fists. Her breasts fell from beneath it and there she was, topless and wearing only a hint of red and black bloomers. He gasped at the glory of two dark nipples staring directly at him. “Be glad you catching these before I done had a or two and I’m still young.” She stood up and let him gaze upon her as he pulled back his foreskin and rubbed his prick delicately. “Us girls with a big pair make a lot more money into an older age than a lot of other girls, but the real money is when we got them where they can look right at a fellow.” “They’re a sight.” “Can’t take no credit for them. The Good Lord gives as he will to whoever he chooses.” “Amen.” She walked over to him, watching his eyes as they feasted on her breasts. She had been with a few first timers in her day. The look was universal from them. She liked that she was the first they had ever seen and would forever remember. It made her tingle down in her cunny, a rarity at work. “You ever seen a cunt before, Davy?” His eyes got big. Her lackadaisical inference of a word that his brother had only once uttered in earshot of their mother, and was nearly de-skinned for afterward, was exciting. “Don’t reckon I have.” Evie smiled at that as she walked slowly to him. When she was within arm’s reach, she stood fast. She rubbed his face with a palm beckoned for his hands. “Take off my knickers and you will then.” She looked at him as he stared at her nipples and then at her crotch. “It’s a pretty one. I got an old Chinaman barber that I go see that trims my wool up for me. You getting a lucky time. I just went to that Chin last week.” He wondered what she meant by that. His own prick did not have much hair. Another thing the hands had picked on him about. He was a fair-haired blond chap. He would never be very hairy, be he ten or fifty. “Go ahead. I want you to see me. It’s the prettiest thing in this shitpoke town. Of course, I admit to bias.” “Oh, I believe you.” Davy hooked a thumb under each side and dragged them carefully down her bared thighs. And she wriggled a bit to let her undies fall to the floor as he let the fabric be. “What do you think? Pretty, eh?” She cocked an eyebrow and spread her legs slightly. She felt moist, the indomitable tingle of excitement in her loins percolating the lather of love. Davy gaped, mouth wide open, at her patch of wispy brown hair that was barely a half-inch high. And there it was, the lips that sent so many to a nightly hitch in heaven and, also, to an early grave on the same night throughout history. Her lips were pink, scarcely protruding from the cut in her groin. To see it there was grand, he wondered about what was so alluring to so odd a place that men killed and pillaged to have access to it for an unfettered few minutes. “What’s that little nub there?” Davy leaned forward to see better, his chin resting on the tub as he studied, his hand idly stroking his forgotten cock. “That the wife-catcher?” “Wife-catcher? I never heard it called that before.” She giggled and stepped one leg on the lip of the tub, pulling her mound back toward her belly button with her hand to make her clit stand out. “My brother said women got a place on them cunnies that you kiss if you want to make a woman be your wife. Otherwise you don’t go near it with your mouth. He called it a wife-catcher.” “You believe everything your brother says?” She flicked at it with two fingers. It was arousing her to see him so eager to do it and be done with it, but as all first-timers, he was nervous and inquisitive. …And malleable to her whim from time to time…this one was a looker and innocent as the Virgin Mary, she reckoned. A good fare and probably a good toss if she took him under her wing a bit. The cock was agreeable, at least. It still poked its little purple head from the water and leaned toward her. Like a little divining rod, she thought to herself. Seeking a berth to dig into. “He’s my older by six years. He seems like he knows a lot about the Biblical things.” “You don’t have to be with a wife to kiss it, you know. It feels good to a woman to be kissed there. Just like it feels good to be kissed on the pecker.” “Do you do that? Kiss a pecker? He told me it felt good but it’s a sin.” “Davy, honey. You paid good money for the sex of a woman to be all yours until your dollar runs out. Now if you want to split hairs about what the good book says about that and compare that with you kissing me on my cunt until I scream your name in vain, you go right ahead. Me, I like to kiss a pecker when they are all clean and pretty like yours. Some men,” She scowled and shook her head, “I wouldn’t dare kiss it for, but we’ll get that little soldier of yours standing at attention so patiently to fire off a lot of ways besides that. And if you’re curious what a cunny tastes like and like me enough to have me go off inside from the feel of you, I’ll be glad to let you.” He nodded, his eyes never leaving the lips and that little bud poking out from the top. “It looks like it’s smiling at me.” He chuckled, suddenly aware of the rye in his head. “It will, honey. It will.” She got the soap wet and ground it into a soft chamois cloth. “Stand up so I can get you all clean.” He stood up, suddenly very aware of a tipsiness he did not feel reclined in the water. “Whiskey hits hard, young fellow.” She started at his knees, grinding the rag across the skin, his prick not six inches from her face. Gruffly, she rinsed and lathered repeatedly, working up his thighs and then to his crotch. With one hand she lifted his scrotum and cleaned under it. Rinsed, she soaped the rag silky-slick with the soap and clasped her hands around it, working slowly, diligently with her hands. She stared up at him in between eyeballing her thoroughness. Paying special attention, she dropped the rag and instead soaped her hands completely. Caressing his cock, she pointed an instructive finger up at him. “Now look here. You done been diddling with yourself by now, I know.” He opened his mouth and she shushed him. “Don’t deny it. You all do it. Men can’t help themselves. Now, Evie’s gonna show you how it should be done.” She rubbed a soapy palm around the head of his cock, kneading it and gripped his nuts with her other hand. “You may wanna hold onto something. It’s gonna be better than you thought it ever could be.” From just her first few strokes, she could feel him getting harder. A smidgen of juice trickled from it, cutting a clear rut in her sudsy hand as it dribbled across the back of it. “It won’t take long this time, baby. That’s expected. Happens to old and young alike and don’t you be fretting. But afterward, when we fuck, you’ll be able to do it longer and be able to enjoy a woman as you should.” She began pumping it, her feminine touch so much more precise and pleasurable than his practical and rushed pumps in the privy that always led him to a quick spin-around and spitting it into the scathole when he came, lest his mother see the leavings in his pants and have a conniption. “That feels so good, Evie. You’re blessed with a graceful hand.” “Oh honey, you don’t have a clue about how blessed you are about to get.” She felt a thunder in her loins as she felt him under her power. Far too many tricks just came and went. Dirty men fresh from toil, rutting and spewing their seed for a few dollars. Nothing but a tawdry and useless<b> defilement </font></b>of her body that she would lament in times alone and cry about. Some would hurt her, call her names. Try to choke her when she was paid to kiss their cocks for them. Laugh at her gagging, try to poke her keester, too. But working the young man’s cock in her hands, seeing his adoration, his eagerness and uncertainty, his politeness and soft good looks, she was aroused. And she had all night with him. There was no hurry and no revulsion at the thought and sight of him. And a pretty penny to be made, she figured if she put on a show, she could make a pretty tip that Hoss would not know about. “Now, you just go off when you get ready you let me know.” Knowing he was at the cusp, she grabbed the big ladle and dipped it full of fresh water. She poured it, cold and clear, across his manhood. He panted as the prick jumped from the sudden chill. Immediately, her mouth was upon it, his member swallowed whole in her soft mouth. Bobbing her head, she felt his reflexive hand on the back of his head as he gaped in fear down at her. She slapped her hand on his on the back of her head, pushing her own head back and forth as she relented slightly so she could slather his prick with her lips and tongue. Pumping him rough with her free hand, lavishing a suckling and licking on his most sensitive of areas, she saw his stomach sink in as he prepared. His breath stopped, legs locked. “Oh god!” He stammered abruptly, a shudder rocking him from toe to brow. His eyes widened in panic. She felt the penis jump and then spasm. She backed away, letting him see his seed spew its first goblets onto her cheek and breasts before returning her mouth around it, churning his head madly, tasting his salt, knowing he was frozen in the throes, overwhelmed. Without realizing, she had stopped pumping him and was rubbing her own cunny on its rosebud. She was slick, tingly, yearning and as the boy exploded endlessly into her mouth, she tickled herself into an orgasm that took her fiercely in its hold. Moaning around his cock as it immediately began to go flaccid, she nevertheless kept rolling her tongue around it, getting off further at the look of stunned and overpowered panic in his bulging eyes as he flinched. He nearly fell, grabbing the tub to right himself as he released her head and bit the crook of his arm to avoid screaming. Davy was worried he would scream, “help!” out of panic. At no time during his hurried jerking off had he ever been so totally overwrought with gratification. Frankly, he didn’t know his prick had it in it. Evie ceased rubbing her clit, swooning a bit herself as she breathed her bliss down. “My oh my, that good I take it?” Her face was flushed. His was shocked as he panted and rubbed his shrinking prick in awe. “I never dreamed it. I mean. I knew it felt good but…” “Til you been swallowed, you couldn’t know. You see when we go to ruttin’ later. It feels good to spit inside a cunt. But even though a woman can squeeze you inside and make it feel good, when she got a good sucking and licking going, it’s a hard thing to best.” Davy sat back down in the water, feeling light-headed, airy. Spent. Suddenly he was tired. Evie saw his mood change in a single breath. “Uh uh. That’s the down side of gettin’ that seed out early. Especially for us women. All your swagger and starch runs out through your peckers when you do that.” “I’m just…happy. I ain’t sleepy or nothing.” “Yeah but afterwards you will be. Come on, cowboy.” She retrieved the rag and stepped into the tub motioning him back to his feet. “Gotta give you something to do, because otherwise you’ll get lazy just laying there.” “I don’t think so.” He stumbled to his feet, noticing how much shorter she was than he for the first time. A good six-inches shorter. With pretty eyes and lips. She reached over and downed the rest of her tonic water. “Seed leaves a lot to be desired in the taste way.” She lathered up the rag and rewashed his lagging prick. Laughing and looking up at him, she laid his hands on her breasts. “You ever played with a pair of titties?” “I have now.” He marveled at her nipples as they stood firm against the big brown areolas. …Like two soft coconuts. He played with them, not really knowing what to do with them but eager to have them in his clutches as she soaped him over. When he was lathered over completely, she coyly pointed at the soapy water. “Dunk under and count to five so the soap will float off of you.” Closing his eyes, Davy nodded and held his nose as he slinked under the foam. Evie took a step forward and held open her pussy, judging the angle of his resurfacing. He counted to five and came up slowly, his face grazing up her thigh as he sat up. And then he was staring at her cunny a few inches from his nose. Magnificent in its feminine folds, the little wife-catcher sitting out front, a rosy purple that was the same pallor as his prick’s head when he rolled the skin back. The scent of her climax was in his nostrils, enthralling, new. “Give it a try. Short of biting it off, you can’t really go wrong down there.” Evie said from above her breasts. He could not see her face, just a belly with a faint line of dark hair that inched inexorably from just above the navel to the fuzz above her cunny. Davy stuck out his tongue as if to touch it to a salt lick and leaned forward. His eyes were closed and he bumped into her clit with his top teeth, the tongue sliding down the slit. It glided across the bared clit as he retreated. She jumped at the electric charge of his soft tongue drug across. After a climax, she was always a bundle of nerves. Davy backed away, eying the target more precisely. “Just the bud?” He reached out and touched it delicately, like it was thin glass shattered by a bug’s burp. “Or is it all working parts?” “The bud makes me jump like I just made you jump. It takes a mix of the bud, the lips and the hole to get it right.” “How do I know if I’m doing it right? I wanna do it right.” He took her hand suddenly. She was reminded of a knight beseeching a queen by the gesture and was aroused that much more. “For you. For what you done, you know. What you done for me.” “Well now. That’s so nice of you. You just go there and get it figured out as best you can. I’ll let you know what’s working. A little hint, though. The louder you hear a woman get and the wetter you feel, the better it is. Rule of thumb.” She reached down and held her pussy open for him. “Do me, Davy. Make me wet and make me moan.” Somehow, it worked out. When she screamed his name after coaxing him into a rhythm and away from the helter-skelter licking that he nervously tried out at first, he commenced to sucking her bud and she had sucked him over the brink. He was happily buoyed when it was she whose knees lost their strength and she sat down in the lukewarm water to pant and quiver as he rubbed his callous-free young hands on her nipples. “So I done good?” His exuberance was intoxicating to her. He was almost like a who learned his first arithmetic. “You done real good, honey! Whew!” She lay unmoving for a few seconds as he beamed and rocked slightly, giddy. “I think I’m gonna get out. I’m pruning up in here.” He stood up, his manhood limp but still hanging long as he reached over to get a towel. He threw it around his shoulders and stepped out of the tub, still smiling, triumphant. “Get you another shot of that rye, Davy.” She watched his prick sway as he wriggled in the towel. She wanted it. “It’s time you found out what the other side is all about.” She stood up, water shiny on her flesh. He put on his Stetson as he walked over and poured up two glasses of rye. “I don’t drink whiskey, honey. I told you.” “They’re both for me. After that, I feel like celebrating.” “Do you smoke?” She covered herself in a towel and walked over to her vanity. For the first time, Davy realized she lived in the room. It was not some parlor of ill repute. Evie looked over her shoulder, wagering whether she should play all her tricks on the young man. “I smoke some, yeah. Ain’t got no tobacco with me, though.” “Ever smoke China dust?” His puzzled look told her no. “That that stuff them railroad chins suck on when they get paid?” “Some do. The man who trims my wool let me have some with him in his pipe. It’s nifty.” She pulled out a tiny pouch from a pocket of a hanging garment in the vanity. She tossed it on the bed and then laid the towel on the mattress. He admired her nakedness again and downed both shots of rye. Outside, a carriage clamored by, a messenger screaming, “The Army has fired on railroad strikers! Read all about it!” A few gunshots were fired into the air by the mouthpiece for attention. “What’s it do?” Emboldened, he rubbed the towel across his head and lay naked next to her. She was packing some grainy red powder into a clay pipe as he saw the Chinamen carry. “Better tried than explained. Kinda like being sucked off.” He understood what she meant by that. In a few short minutes, he was semi-conscious, aware of her kissing his neck and of him kissing hers. Their words were garbled in their minds, deeply intoned or tinny, far away and inside them. His touch was amplified or detached. Smiles were demonic or cherubic. He sensed her youth. Tasted her essence again while she inhaled his. His prick, swollen by distortion, seemed to be a ravishing magic wand. When he heard her say coherently, “Inside me…” Davy felt his way up her thigh with his hard prick. He was atop her, hot breathing shared between them, the dragon’s breath she dreamily said. Mouths pressed hard together he found her hole, moistened incredibly more by then than he would have thought possible. She nodded as he mumbled, “Is that it?” “Do it. Do it well. Do it as you never will again, Davy. And remember this. I suspect you will.” He thrust, clumsily at an odd angle at first before she helped him with a cock of her thigh to the side and grip of his hip to steer him home. And he was home, savoring the feeling of her around her. Enamored of the pleasure he was bringing to her body. She writhed as she moaned, eyes clenched with tears squeezed free. She suddenly locked up, her eyes black in the fading light, digging her fingernails into his white back, bringing blood as she pressed her pussy against him fully, climaxing undeterred. Without filtering her outbursts, she exclaimed continuously as he fucked her still, a blank look of dopey satisfaction and wonder of how his pecker could render such a young but experienced woman so completely mystifying in her outpouring of ecstasy. She pushed him back suddenly as he felt her juices run down his scrotum. It took her down a notch, for once it was she who was discomfited. “I’ve never done that. I think I peed from it being so good. That’s a first.” Davy notched another First in his day. She did not hesitate to reassume a stance for him to enter her. Climbing up on all fours like a beast in the field, she took him in her hand and pressed her small ass against him, working her hips around his prick before he found his rhythm. And then he felt the loading as he had before in the tub and countless times in the privy. That pressure that signaled all was on track for the spit that would send him across that great breach between those who knew a woman and those who did not. Evie grunted as she accepted his thrusts, wincing when he missed from time to time but eager to be fucked. Her mind was cloudy in all things except the feeling of hard cock within and the eagerness for him to explode inside her. Normally she would not allow a man’s seed inside her for fear of a bastard. Of course, it happened a lot and she had been lucky. Her menses had ceased only two days prior and she weighed that against the simple joy of seeing him fully vetted. “I’m gonna go off!” His stroked became stifled, uneasy, and delicate though thorough and deep. He was holding himself back. She did not let him. Thrusting her own pelvis back against him and clamping her cunny’s grip upon him, she took what was rightfully hers, urging him through with cries of, “Harder! I’m going to with you!” Davy felt the rise of his loins. The pressure needing to flow. Suddenly he could feel it spasm, the prick driven home and locked into the deepest pit of pleasure it could find and it stayed, ejaculating fully into Evie as she froze and accepted him. He felt her loins spasm in response to his own, her voice cut short in lieu of frozen moan that belied the complete involvement of her body melding with his. His head was fuzzy, but he swore he heard her scream, “I love you!” into her pillow. While it spurted, he dared not moved. She moved for him, knowing as a woman does that the overwhelming feeling of a tight wet womb accepting the seed is a much a medication for his ego as laudanum for the croup. He collapsed, pressing them into the mattress, still inside her but not moving. His mouth found her neck, his arms pinned under her cupping her breasts. It was a long minute, (or five? They could not tell under the chin’s dust.) Before either moved or spoke beyond a moan that was answered with a coo in retort. Finally, he parted himself from her, rolling over on his back to sigh and stare at the ceiling. Evie did not move other than to roll her head slightly to face him as she left her face mostly planted into a sweaty pillow. “And that, Mister Davy, is what a first time should be. I trust it met with your aspirations because it sure as all fire hell met with mine.” He raised his eyebrows and locked his hands behind his head. Looking down at his prick as it lay half-erect and wet in the light of the fading Wyoming sun through an adjacent window, he nodded in that same acknowledgement that men throughout the ages of procreation had done in the same fashion. It was that look of every first timer when the oddity, the novelty, the fright and the deed was over. The look that said, “I gotta do that again, partner.” In vino veritas |
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