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COWBOY~! (for the ladies out there)
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COWBOY~! (for the ladies out there) I was filling out my -imprinted check and I couldn't remember if Marty charged 65 or 75 dollars. "It's seventy-five, right?" I called out casually, not wanting to look cheap. "Well, actually," he said, "Eighty-five this year. I'm cutting back a little." Okay, I thought, and really, I understood. Marty was probably fifty years old; shoeing could take a lot out of your back. I've accepted that Kora is my money pit. It's a matter of priorities. As a , my parents never let me have a , and I vowed it would be my first purchase in "the real world." Kora is my buckskin baby, an American Quarter who I trained and is now my primary source of relaxation. Still, eighty-five bucks is a lot for cold shoeing, so two months later, when Kora's toes were looking long again, I asked my friend Christina about her farrier. money is never a concern of Christina's (her parents subsidize her three show horses) but she was always raving about her guy and how she'd never trust anyone else. I got his number and made an appointment for Wednesday afternoon. I was brushing beautiful Kora when a dirty old Ford drove up. As he got out, I noted a typical cowboy: black hat, plaid Western shirt, dark blue Wranglers. As I live in Colorado, this is not an unusual sight. Hell, during the summer, when I work as a trail guide, even I dress the part. I'm in thousands of tourists' photo albums, the token cowgirl, when really I wouldn't know a Hereford from an Angus if one came up and bit me. "Becky?" he asked warmly, extending his hand. "I'm Craig Johnson." Oh, my god! I caught my breath and smiled. His hand was large and soft. He held mine for just the right amount of time and let it go with a tiny squeeze. Why didn't Christina tell me he was hot?!  I pushed a stray piece of hair behind my ear, and wished I had grabbed something nicer than the ratty college sweatshirt I was wearing. Craig was tall, well over six foot. He had dark eyes and a long oval face that was perfectly tanned even though we were just beginning April. "Pleased to meet you," he said genuinely and my heart flopped. "Hi" was all I could reply, "This is Kora." I hid behind my , feeling a tingling blush spread across my face. He extended that sensuous hand to my mare's neck, "Nice looking " he commented after scanning her quickly. "Thanks," I smiled, a proud mama, "She's my pride and joy." "You want to bring her over here?" he turned away, "I've got to unload some stuff." Oh yum, I swallowed, a dry empty taste in my mouth as I watched his perfect ass, accentuated by the not too tight, not too loose jeans. I've dated cowboys before, but never seriously. I spend a lot more time watching them fawn over Christina in the country clubs; she's got the pocket-less jeans and the lacey camisole tops. How dare she fail to mention that Craig was a hunk? No wonder she'd been so complimentary of his skills. I strained to see if he was wearing a wedding ring. He opened the truck's tailgate and started organizing tools. I just watched him work, tingly giddy feelings drifting up between my legs and swirling around in my chest. "So, are you new around here?" He asked hanging up his hat in the truck's cab. Hmmm, salt and pepper hair, real short, almost shaved in the back. I wanted to touch it. He turned, and caught me looking. "Oh no," I said quickly, "As a I came camping with my parents. I fell in love with a trail ride in Rocky Mountain and decided it was the ideal summer job." His eye contact was breathtaking. Some times I ramble when I'm nervous, but he seemed to actually be listening to me. "So, you're in school?" he asked as he picked up the leather apron. "Actually now, I teach." I wasn't sure if it was good or bad that he thought I was young. "It's my fourth year at Bennett Elementary." "How's that?" he asked, and I chattered on. Good shoers are like a good hair stylists: they get you going about yourself so they don't have to talk while they work. This is also part of my job as a trail guide, so I appreciate when people have the talent, but I also knew it was possible that he wasn't really interested. I tried to keep my eyes up as he bucked the leather apron around his legs. I couldn't help but notice that his jeans were filled out just as nicely in front as behind. Again, perfect fit: a little definition (nice size) yet nothing looked squished. And YES!: no ring. Strange, I thought. He looked like a settled man, definitely a good catch. He must have a girlfriend. I resolved to ask Christina as soon as possible. "Is business good out here?" I asked trying to get the conversation back to him. "I get by," he said and smiled at me before bending down to pick up Kora's left hind hoof. Holy shit, my heart was in my throat. Air . . . air . . . I felt like a fish out of water with the delicious realization that I could stand there and watch his backside without being inappropriate at all. Be good baby, I silently willed Kora and scratched her on the neck. She stood like an angel and let me ogle to my heart's content. Craig's ass was smooth and round: just filling out his jeans and leaving a little slack below the cheeks. He had a nice body: solid but toned, not at all chubby, and good god, due to his height, right there in front of my face. I noted the worn wallet creases and lack of chew can ring: so much better for kissing, in my opinion. "So what do you ride?" I asked eagerly. Could this fantasy get any better? He told me about his two cutting horses, and I made my first bold move. "Do you have any competitions coming up?" I tried to sound nonchalant. "I'd love to see you ride. I don't know the first thing about working stock." Luckily he was facing the opposite direction, because I know my mouth was hanging open as I waited for his reaction. He filed a few strokes before answering. "Nah, we're not ready yet, but we practice up at Casey's Arena. You know where that is? North on 249?" "Yeah, I think so," I lied. I would be finding out immediately. Right in stride he asked, "What do you do with this girl here?" He patted her on the butt as he reached for a shoe. . . . Ooo, ooo, . . . me too. . . cried my tush. My mind was in the gutter. I rolled my eyes at myself. Craig held the shoe to Kora's hoof then took it to the anvil and shaped it a little. I held my answer and breath as I listened to the familiar clang of metal on metal. With ease and precision he wielded the hammer. He was classic, the perfect western man. I could imagine him in bronze or sketched in pencil, like the art in my magazines. I was guessing he was in his late thirties, not too old for me. I like mature men, I thought, and my body ached in agreement. A half hour whipped by. We talked and were silent. Comfortable, I hoped, but I was anything but. I couldn't believe my inner monologue. I hadn't been this attracted to a man in some time, and the imagery was so easy. Pound me . . . nail me . . . ride me off into the sunset. I pulled my sweatshirt over my head after tying Kora to the rail by her pen. I was flushed and could feel my nipples hard under my t-shirt. Look at my breasts, it was a last ditch effort. Come on baby, I urged him silently. Want me like I want you. "What do I owe ya?" I asked as I opened my car door to get my purse. I knew he was watching, and I felt time slow down as I leaned across the front seat slowly. God, I was wet. I felt my pussy lips slide across each other. As much as I wanted him to stay, I couldn't wait to get Kora's saddle on. I needed something between my legs, and soon. "Seventy-five dollars," he said. What a deal! Thank you, Marty. Craig took my check and handed me a card. "That's my home phone and cell." I slid my finger over the embossed logo. "Call me anytime." His voice was syrupy. My brain was mush. Was that an offer? Did I detect some attraction, or was he just being a good businessman? I wanted to give him mine, but felt I had definitely been forward enough for one day. "Thanks a lot." I said. "Don't leave" is what I meant. "Nice to meet you," he said, and put on his hat. "You too," and my cheeks hurt from smiling. "See you later," and he was off. I stood and watched his truck go, as Kora stretched her lead rope to the end, trying to nibble some of the fresh spring grass. I hoped Kora's feet wouldn't be sore, but I needed to ride. It was a gorgeous afternoon. I loved Colorado. I loved life. My fingers were still trembling as I grabbed hold of the reins. I didn't even put my feet in the stirrups as I squeezed Kora to walk on. I closed my eyes, rolled my neck, and relaxed deep into the saddle. There is nothing more sexual than a woman on a , I thought to myself. Except, maybe, a mouthful of cock. Jesus Christ, did I really just think that? I was imagining Craig leaning against his truck. I'm undoing his belt buckle and down on my knees. All my sensations focused on my mouth. My tongue felt thick, engorged, as if it too were a sexual organ. Hmmm, I thought and brought one hand to my face. I was so hot. I squeezed Kora to trot and reveled the sensation of grinding my crotch deep into her back. It's so like sex, always a reoccurring thought, as I slowed her pace by riding just a little behind her stride. It's called a half halt, and god, it feels good: thrusting the front of your body down, relaxing your hip joints and setting the speed of a thousand pound creature by using your weight. The seam of my jeans bumped my clit with each step. It was this incredibly innocent masturbation, and I imagined Craig's hands on my breasts, kneading them, pinching them, kissing me deeply. Hmmm, that mouth craving again. I urged Kora to lope and felt the wind on my skin as I rode faster and smoother. I let my legs hang loose and rubbed my free forearm across my chest. No one was watching, I convinced myself, even though my eyes were still closed. I resolved to visit Kora everyday and coat her hooves with special conditioner. I would get them to grow as fast as they could. I needed to see Craig again soon. "Christina, I'm in love." I said into the phone. "How dare you not warn me? "Becky?" She was startled. "Are you okay?" "No. I'm not okay, Chris. I'm dying here. Craig just shoed Kora, and I wanted to jump him on the spot." "Seriously?" She asked. "Dead serious," I said. "I mean BAD." "You know he lives in a trailer?" and that was Christina for you. It was a sad day when I realized my friend always figured a man's money into her attraction. "But don't you think he's sexy? His eyes? And that butt?!" "I don't know," she responded. "I guess so. He's a little old isn't he? He cleans stalls for the Richmonds during the winter." Christina is twenty-four and still in college. That changes a lot, but I knew his age wasn't really a factor. She and her parent's money lived in a different world. It was actually a good thing that Christina and I had different tastes in men. Besides our horses, we didn't have a lot in common, but we did have a good time. "I didn't say I wanted to marry him, Chris. I just want to fuck him." "Jesus Bec. You are wound up. So ask him out, or just screw him in a stall." "Yeah, I was thinking about that," I said and collapsed into giggles. Christina was fun. She was a good friend. "Find out if he has a girlfriend, okay?" Christina has the connections. She's up with the gossip. I knew she'd come through. That night I lay in bed dreaming of Craig while I was both asleep and awake, and for the next three days too. Then came the call. It was Saturday, about 10:00am. I was sitting at the kitchen table wearing yellow bikini underwear and an oversized t-shirt just reading the mail accumulated over the week. "Is Becky Reynolds there?" and my heart puffed up. I knew it was him; I almost dropped the phone. I must have said something but the sensation of blood pounding through my brain is all I remember. He reintroduced himself, unknowing that he had been dominating my idle thoughts for seventy-two hours. "Uh, I was wondering. . . well, how are you?" he asked. It was cute: he was shy, out of his element. Gone was the suave, hand-shaking shoer. "Great," I said sensing he needed reassurance. "I'm glad it's the weekend. The weather is supposed to be awesome." As he said, "Yep," I heard the confidence return to his voice. "I was thinking of doing a little trail riding tomorrow, and was wondering if you and Kora would like to join me?" Hallelujah! Thank you, God! "I'd love to." I said, in violation of my years of game-playing practice and consistent coaching from Christina on not looking too eager or desperate. I didn't care; I was ecstatic. He CALLED! He called. I'm in love with my shoer! I crossed my legs Indian-style in the hard wood chair and dropped my left hand into my lap. "Can you pick us up?" I asked. "I don't have a trailer." My voice amazed me, impressively calm despite my immediate schoolgirl fantasy: our horses nickering at each other across the partition of a two- trailer. Oh course, Craig's was the black stallion. Kora would be in love too. "No problem," said Craig, and he began to tell details of the location, the scenery, and the trail. I slid my hand into my panties, unsurprised to find a warm, slick puddle between my lips. I imagined a checkered picnic blanket . . . kissing . . . caressing. Our clothes disappeared. "Do you want me to bring some lunch or something?" I asked, still semi-present in the conversation. "Taken care of," he said, "this is my treat." We confirmed additional details as I continued to tease myself with my flickering fingertip. I could not wait. I had work to do. I made sure my best jeans were clean and went to the mall. I usually wore a sports bra when riding, definitely not tomorrow. I stood in the dressing room, touching my breasts, remembering Craig's hands: shaking mine, petting my , pounding the steel, inserting the nails, one at a time. I tried on, I modeled, I pinched and then checked in the mirror. I was proud of my 36C's: just a little too big for my own handful, the milky white excess creating perfect cleavage as I pushed them up, massaged vigorously, and closed my eyes, indulging again. My nipples were hard, like little brown pebbles. I imagined Craig's lips, sucking each one. Twisting the tips seemed to draw any remaining strength from my legs and I rested my flushed cheek against the smooth, cold dressing-room mirror. My skin felt too tight: everything tingled. I relaxed my arms, rolled back my head and leaned all my weight forward to streak my hot tits across the glass. The final straw was his hands: hypothetically grabbing my hips and forcefully taking me from behind. I didn't care who was in the dressing room next to mine. I unzipped my jeans, sat on the painted white bench, and behind only a curtain, I made myself cum with a powerful quake. Sunday morning I got up early to pamper myself. I laughed at the irony since riding my is usually something I do in my grubbies. After a long bath, I covered myself in lilac lotion, filed my nails, dried my hair, put on a little make-up, and got dressed in my brand-new purchases. I had decided on black: smooth, understated, yet still very sexy. Then clothes, and my boots, a jean jacket and little silver -head earrings. I was ready. I gave Kora a good grooming trying not to get myself too dirty, hoping to do that after Craig arrived. Oh, I'm so bad, I thought to myself. As he walked around the truck, my eyes went straight to those kissable lips. He was as hot as I'd remembered, and his clean pressed clothes, smooth shave and warm smile were clues that the anticipation was mutual. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but instead I casually waved. He introduced us to Cashmere, his sorrel gelding. He wasn't quite Black Beauty, but a nice enough ; this trip was for me, anyway. Sorry Lane, I thought lightly and walked her in to the trailer. After I threw my stuff in the tack compartment, he opened the cab door for me and I stepped up into the truck, loving every moment. Polyester seat covers disguised cracked vinyl but the dashboard was clean and cab free of crap (something that can never be said of Christina's truck). I felt like a princess ascending her throne; it was so much higher than my little car. I rejoiced at the absence of seat belts; I could sit somewhere in the middle, not too close, about halfway. We drove on, making small talk. I reveled in the dirt road vibrations and imagined how maybe, I'd suck him off on the drive home, or at least rest my head on his shoulder. I was so horny, at the moment, those two options seemed equally appealing. We stopped at an unmarked turn-off. Kora was antsy: she's a young whose never been anywhere beside my stable and the park where we work. I cooed calming words to her and stroked her neck, all the while feeling my heart accelerate knowing Craig's eyes were on me. We saddled-up in silence and I paused before putting on my chaps. I always wear them when I ride and have endured enough sexual harassment on the job to know that guys like them. I take a little pride since I've worn the same ones since high school, but I suppose leather can stretch if you want to be objectionable. On the trail we rode single file but chatted easily: horses, his dog, our jobs, then movies, music and friends. Craig kept his eyes forward as we rode, just raising his voice slightly. When I work at the trail ride operation, I'm constantly turning around to check on my dudes. I wished I could see Craig's face, but memorized his neck, narrowing in on the little indent where his jaw met his ear. As soon as the opportunity arose, I was determined to mark that spot: a kiss, a suckle, just one tiny blood vessel to pop. I watched his butt in the saddle and imagined riding immediately behind: arms wrapped around him, tits pressed into the contours of his back, face on his shoulder blades and that glorious ass between my thighs. He was funny and smart, and totally together with his . I never saw Craig steer, and Cashmere fearlessly navigated the trail, at home in the woods. All at once Craig cued him up to a fantastic gallop. Instinctively, Kora followed behind, and I loosened my reins to let her run free. Heart pounding, hair flying, I closed my eyes into the wind. We were in Snowy River, just like my dreams. As we slowed to a walk, nothing needed to be said. I didn't see Craig get down, but in a second he had Kora's reins, the way we hold the horses as customers dismount. My horsewoman ego was gone; I gave in to romance. I was a lady; he was my prince. Usually, I hop down, but just then I lingered. As soon as my toes touched the ground, his left arm enveloped me. His hungry mouth met mine, graciously accepting its part in my fantasies so far. He tasted fresh and strong and perfect and smooth. "Just a minute," he said, letting me go, but still holding my . "No," cried my senses, and I caught a chill in the split second it took him to slip off Kora's bridle and hook it over the saddle horn. Both horses had their noses down, munching contently in the grass. Any concern for my beloved pet vanished as Craig turned back. With one arm under my butt, he lifted me up, nuzzled his face across my chest, and effortlessly twirled me 180 degrees. My belt buckle hooked over top of his as I slid down his body, not wanting to separate from the delicious contact. This pulled my jeans up, slicing my sex. The pain was quick, but electric. I was so hot. I could only imagine that my jeans must have then been sopped like a sponge. "You are a beautiful creature," he said, pushing my hair back and kissing my forehead. "Thank you," I smiled, letting the complement go straight to my heart. "I've wanted you since you got out of your truck." "Yeah," he chuckled. "Christina said something like that." A spike of terror suspended the moment; I remembered our less than subtle conversation. "What did she tell you?" I asked sarcastically, hopefully hiding the touch of true terror. I vowed to kill her later. "Oh, it wasn't bad." A small sweet kiss began to relax me. "I don't think, we'd be here today if she hadn't assured me that you'd say yes." He had a point. Maybe I'd thank her after I killed her. "I want you to know, I'm not in the habit of asking out ." "I'm glad you did," I said, suddenly shy. I stepped closer and burrowed into his chest, knowing I'd blush if he looked at me like that any longer. Plus, I wanted to rub the hard-on I hoped was forming inside those well-fitting jeans: to see if his body was as anxious as mine. I loved Craig's height. His two-arm hug was even more consuming than I might have imagined. And there, under my ribs, I felt his heat. I wanted to touch it, to grab it, to stuff it into my mouth. I am not a short woman, but we weren't lining up. I stepped round my right foot so I could grind into his leg. Warm rivers of joy pulsed up from my clit. Up on one tip-toe, I curled my other leg around him, rubbing him into my needy inner thigh. I always say that few feelings are better than sore, stressed muscles from riding too hard. But this: my weary leg bearing down on his hard flexed thigh, shot way to the top of my list. Uncontrollably, my hips bucked up against him. I resisted the puppy-like urge to start humping his leg. My pussy ached ferociously. We were animals, but there was a dance to be done. I rubbed my cheek on his pecks. Even through his shirt, I could tell he had a great body. I sucked in my stomach as his hands began to explore my mine. Over my breasts, it was much, too much. Tracing the dip in my waist and finally pulling me forward, cupping my butt. Ooooh, just right there, ran my thoughts as his middle finger traced the horizontal crease under my ass. I trembled at his nearness. Oh, those hands. In the dressing room I had imagined him palming my breast, and here he was, with room to spare in his handful of cheek. I felt his lips, nuzzling my hair. My mouth was just as eager. I opened my eyes, and scanned the ground, hoping to find something to stand on. "I need to kiss you," I explained my retreat. "Hold that thought," he whispered and walked to Cashmere's side. I took off my chaps and retucked my shirt. Craig plopped his hat on the saddle horn and my heart fluttered: seeing a cowboy's hair is like a big secret. He might as well stripped naked given my body's intimate reaction. He pulled a wool blanket out of the pack, spread it on slightly inclined ground, and sat down in the middle. It was a small throw, like something you'd cover your lap with at a football game. It gave me no choice but to nestle between his legs, not that I was complaining at all. His hands lifted my chin and we kissed straight on. I completely relaxed and allowed him to position me. He turned my hips toward him. This I can handle, I thought, licking my lips. I put my arm around his neck and straddled his lap. Without even a peck, he came at me with open lips and a probing tongue. I sucked him in with a passionate kiss. He was strong, yet relaxed, as he'd been all along. Confidently exploring, he penetrated deep into my mouth. We made out for an hour, like two teenagers: groping and grinding through clothes. My body was pining, but I was thrilled to know this wasn't to be a quick in and out. My lips searched his face for what he like best, from tender kisses on his eyelids to open-mouth bites on his neck. I found my reserved spot, licked it and nibbled his ear. I loved the way he purred my name, "Becky," he moaned, low and soft. "Yes, baby?" I pulled back just an inch. "Oh, Becky," long breath. "I want you so bad." Words failed me, but my body was ready. I threw my arms around him, a full impact embrace knowing the clothing wouldn't be there for long. I started to unbutton my green collared shirt, but Craig didn't let me finish. After only three buttons, he slid his hand in, under my bra and squeezed my tit roughly. "Oh yes," I moaned, as he turned me backwards and pulled me toward him again. "Just like that." I said and I meant it. There is nothing more trying than a wimpy massage, and I feel the same way about a man who's afraid of breasts. I like pressure, desire: that good, hungry pain. Like scratching a bug bite, a needed release that just makes you want more. He ground his chin in my shoulder, kneading my breast and my petrified nipple. "You have an incredible body" he whispered; he knew just what to say. "Thank you," I said but it didn't do justice. I pulled his other arm under mine and brought his left hand to my lips. I circled his index finger with my tongue and sucked it in with one slurp. A little preview, I though eagerly. I love to give head, and knew I was in for a treat by the way his FINGER reached my throat. His free hand moved from my breast to my lower abs. Craig pulled me into him sandwiching his eager cock between my ass cheeks. I was torn: wanting both to rock my hips forward to rub his shaft through my crack and to roll them under and beckon his hand to my cunt. I decided on neither and finished unbuttoning my shirt. I removed it, my bra, and my belt. "Oh, gorgeous," he moaned and attempted to draw one breast to his mouth. I wiggled away and switched my attention to his jeans. His buckle was well-worn but certified a calf-roping win from 1987. I pried it open, undid his top button and witnessed his huge maroon cockhead struggling to escape the top of his briefs. A shiny dot of pre-come moistened the tip and I went right for it. Craig undid the zipper, lifted his hips to slide his jeans and underwear down, and closed his eyes in blissful anticipation. I had to lie down since he was sitting on the ground, but my exposed breasts felt great against his toasty thighs. A thin coat of dark hair tickled my nipples and opened a direct line of communication from my chest to my clit. I started out slowly, kissing the inside of his thighs and rubbing my cheeks, lips and then tongue over his throbbing, eight-inch rod. He had his hands in my hair but offered no direction. I hoped that meant he was enjoying the tease. With a here-goes-nothing burst of ambition, I opened up and swallowed as much of that magnificent cock as possible. I wrapped my hand around the smooth skin of the remaining quarter, and heard appreciative gasps as I began to suck. I swirled my tongue for moisture and then focused on the perfect seal. On each thrust I coaxed myself to take more. But Craig was thick as well as long; I started to have doubts if even my pussy could hold him. She was, however, insistently reminding me of how very eager she was to try. I paused and swallowed, gripping his cock even tighter. My mouth was so full, but I had to keep going. Even without a graze of direct stimulation below the waist, I began to feel the warmth pooling and little skipping-stone ripples radiating outward. Craig scooped my hair off my glistening neck and gave it a little tug as he pulled me up slightly. Nerve endings cried out, goose bumps formed, and an incredible crash of cold struck my sweat. Resting heavy palms on my head, Craig then pressed me to take just a little more length. Deep-throating a man is so erotic. Losing your breath can be scary, but in my mind it's a sacrifice: like, "I want you so bad, I'd give up air for you." I lifted my weight off my elbows, relaxed my arms around his waist and allowed gravity to help him penetrate my throat. "Becky," cracked his voice as I came down again, "I'm going. . ." but I knew it was too late. I had felt his cock grow, and his driving moves stutter. All at once my mouth filled with glorious cum: salty and sweet, sticky and thick. I swallowed it down as I felt another shot explode into my throat. "Ah, aahhhh," came a guttural groan and Craig lay back on the exposed ground, motionless. With one last slow suck, I backed off his lap and traced my hands down his thighs. I snuggled up beside him and was shocked to notice a very pained look on his face. "You okay?" I asked. No answer. For a second, I panicked, had I hurt him? What was wrong? Slowly he opened his eyes. "That. . ." he said, "was hands down," he took another deep breath. ". . .the best blow job of my entire life." Thank god; I smiled. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." "That," he said, wrapping an arm around me, "Is an understatement." He closed his eyes again. It's funny how making your man cum can alleviate some of your pent-up frustration. For a time I was perfectly content to lay next to him with my arm across his chest. But, notice I said some. After a while, my hand took its turn venturing into a shirt. I began to stroke his fine hair when my palm felt his erect nipple. That was the end of relaxed. I sat up, peeled his shirt back, and went to his chest like a deer to salt. "Oh no, Missy," he said, although I could tell he was still a little groggy. "You've had your fun." He sat up. "Now I've got a little something for you." I giggled and pushed him back down. "Having a good time, I see," he said teasing. "But I don't think this has been quite fair." Before I could react, he sat up, easily reversed our position and was stripping off his shirt as he straddled me. "I'm the one with the nipple fetish." He said and pinched one of mine for added emphasis. I gazed at his completely naked body: flat stomach, broad chest, well-muscled arms and legs, and that semi-rigid cock which promised to be on duty again soon. Craig leaned down to my chest and my breasts reached up for him. He licked, then nipped, twisted, then pulled, and finally pushed down on the electrified buds, driving them deep into my aching breasts. He alternated one then the other, and finally smashed both tits together. His left hand spread across them, pinky on one nipple and thumb on the other. It was not a tough stretch and I felt that he could have lifted me off the ground that way had he wanted to. Instead his right hand pushed down on my other sensitive mound and a naughty finger probed through my jeans as if gripping for a different way to raise me. I bucked like a bronc and his hand beat mine to the button on my jeans. "Nice," he said, snapping the elastic of my new black bikini's. Score one for Saturday's shopping. Then an awkward moment passed as he realized I was still wearing my boots. They weren't slip-ons, but ropers with laces up my ankles. He scooted down to untie them and for the first time I wondered if anyone might be around to see us. "You don't think we'll get caught," I teased. "Nah," Craig said, pulling one boot off. "Cash is on the look out. He'll whinny to warn us if anyone shows up." Sliding up and kissing me on the lips, "We're out pretty far," he said softly, reassuring. He went for another kiss, and I tapped my other foot, clearing my throat. My hormones and the day's delicious success were making me feel both funny and bold. "Be sure to kiss it when you get the sock off." I poked him in the ribs with my other toe. "Of course, your highness" he said and tickled the arch. I slid down my jeans and panties. A light breeze blew and I drew up my knees, all of a sudden feeling very exposed. But Craig sat down, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed my cheek. I was perfect again. "Do you have something?" I asked. Famous last words. "Shh," he said and put a finger to my lips. My self-control had almost returned when a finger from his other hand reached around my left side, slid through my wet labia and landed smack dab on my clitoris. "Oh, god," was all I could say as he began to jiggle it. A poignant shutter whipped through my body. It was like every nerve had been twisted: immediately calling out for release and yet enjoying the stretch at the same time. Teasingly, the finger circled my hot, gaping hole, stroking the satiny skin. Then directly, it returned to my most sensitive spot. His right hand lowered, curved around under my thigh to meet his left between my legs. His body surrounded mine in an engulfing embrace. A different finger penetrated my pussy, each knuckle provoking a surge of pleasure, while the first continued to pulse away at my clit. Craig thrust with a deliberate cadence and then, without warning or rhythmic relent, he increased my fill to two fingers. "You feel great," he whispered, the lusty reverberations tickled every little hair in my ear. "No," I replied, "YOU feel great!" He continued the exquisite finger-fuck with one hand, all the while polishing my clit with the amble secretions supplied by my slippery womb. My hips bucked up to his hands, increasing sensations with force. No effort was necessary for him to remain solid as my shoulders pressed back against his incredible chest. His aura was intoxicating: powerful, so masculine. I felt a slit-second, pre-orgasmic hesitation and greedily longed for his cock despite the all-to-effective work of his hands. "God, yes," I mumbled. "Oh, fuck me." I tilted my head to the side and lightly took hold of his shapely bicep with my teeth. "Mmmm," I bit down a little and fought an animal urge to shake my head ferociously. I didn't want to shock him; I paused for a reaction. Craig responded with an open mouth kiss on the elongated side of my neck, ending with a reciprocating little nip. "Mmmm," I moaned again and chuckled briefly at the thought of two horses, mutually grooming each other's withers with their teeth. I knew it was kinky, but I needed the bite. He was massaging my clitoris between his thumb and forefinger as if rolling a ball of clay into a perfect smooth sphere. I had to transfer some of the intensity building inside me. Just kissing his arm was not going to do it. I reached back and clenched his thighs, unable to grab that delectable ass. His penetrating hand continued its vibrating dance, tickling the engorged walls of my hot throbbing pussy. The previously hollow aching had finally been replaced with violent rush. After what felt like thirty seconds, I was ready to cum. How did he know exactly how to touch me? With that thought, a brilliant explosion. Warm radiation saturated my limbs as spasms of euphoria pulsed out of my cunt. Orgasm. . . orgasm. I knew the meaning of the word. We were in the middle of nowhere but my hand flew to my lips to stifle the shrill expression of lust I felt sure would release. But no sound escaped, every live neuron focused on the sensation of touch: on the powerful arms around me, the unmistakable impression of his rejuvenated erection in the small of my back, his soft lips on my throat in contrast to the slight scratchy stubble of his chin kneading into the junction of my shoulder and neck, and those hands . . . oh those hands: deftly robust, perfect in action. Craig's ministration continued as I gasped for a breath. "Thatta girl," he whispered huskily and I shivered with that recognition of familiar soothing talk. I snuggled into his arms, muscles relaxing, and looked up into his eyes. He met me with a kiss. After my passionate gaze of appreciation was acknowledged with a my-pleasure smile, I closed my eyes. I could die happy now. Slowly he withdrew his hands, wrapped them around my waist and pulled me tight into his lap. His silky wet fingers wiped my juice on my sides and settled contently supporting my breasts. The Colorado wind blew, and although I could have lain there all day, I was aware it was chilly. Neither of us said anything, but I could see the goose bumps on his arm wrapped around me. Without the frenzied heat of the moment, it wasn't really the weather for lounging around naked. "Go ahead and put your shirt on," I said. "Don't go anywhere," he replied. "I won't." I said. He had no idea of all the silly, sappy girl thoughts going through my head. After I dressed, I went to find Kora and realized for the first time what a truly beautiful spot we were in. The lime green valley was just coming to life and the crystal clear sky was light blue. I smiled at Kora, as if spilling the details to a trusted friend. We walked back to the spot to find Craig digging a deli out of his left saddle bag. "Impressive," I said when he withdrew a bottle of wine. He beckoned me to the blanket, and like a little boy with a good Christmas present, he opened a narrow white box from See's. "I have died and gone to heaven," I said, referring to more than the chocolate. We ate, we giggled, we kissed. Laying back in his arms, I had absolutely no idea what time it was when he shifted his weight and woke me from a tiny cat nap. "Ready to go?" he asked and touched his lips to my forehead. I loved how he punctuated conversation with little pecks. I shrugged my shoulders and smiled, "Sure," wanting to be agreeable and easy-going. We repacked the stuff and adjusted the horses' tack. He put his hat back on; I buckled my chaps and bent down to zip them. "Those are pretty sexy, you know." I smiled. I did know, but I played innocent. "Does someone have another fetish I should be aware of?" I taunted. Craig looked puzzled. "Which of my many did I tell you about?" Rather than answer, I reached over and tried to tweak his nipple through his shirt. "You missed big time, Babe" he flaunted. "But I know just were yours are." I looked down, sure enough, perky and perky, standing at attention. I stepped back just in time to avoid his grabby hand. I dodged behind Kora. Craig followed me in hot pursuit. "Hey!" I shouted, teasing. "Don't spook the horses!" "Oh, you're in trouble now." He threatened. I knew I was, and I couldn't wait. I made an animated display of running away from him. When he got closer, I turned around and shielded my breasts with outstretched arms and pinching fingers. He walked past my hands, grabbed me around the waist, and lifted me off the ground. "Tell me the truth now." He swatted my butt, playfully. "Have you ever done the deed in these bad boys?" He hoisted the leather on the back of my thighs: a tempting wedgie. I was getting wet again. "Hey now," I slapped his ass back. "Look who's talking, BAD boy!" "Shit," he laughed. "I think I'm a lot closer to dirty old man." "Shut-up," I snapped; I loved kidding around. "How old could you possibly be?" "Thirty-nine in May." I filed that away. "But you make me feel like I'm nineteen again." He set me down and kissed me. "Well," I said, sarcastically snotty. "I'm not nineteen. I am twenty-six, thank you. I'm wise and worldly and very experienced." He raised his eyebrows, smiling. "So you have gone the leather, whips, and spurs route." "I have not," I pouted. "I only like sex in the missionary position." We both started laughing. "I've got a mark on my arm that says otherwise." I shrugged coyly. "Sorry about that." "My little vampire." I laughed. I would be his little whatever-he-wanted-me-to-be. He wrapped his arms around me and faked a bite at my neck. I collapsed my knees and flopped down onto his arms, pretending to try to get away, when really I wanted him to hold me forever. It was amazing how he made me, 26 and 5'8," feel young and petite. I liked it. I wanted him to take care of me, to protect me, and oh yeah, I was horny again, to fuck me senseless. Craig took a couple of steps, carrying me slung over his crossed arms, swinging between his legs. Put my feet down and stood up, lined his body with mine as he was still hunched forward. Up on my tip-toes I rubbed my ass into the top of his thighs. I wanted to feel his cock so bad. He kissed my neck and whispered, "You little tease." I turned around, put my arms around his neck, took a deep breath and said, "I'm not teasing; I'd follow through." He kissed my mouth and said smiling, "But I wouldn't want you to be too sore for our ride home." He teasingly scooped at my crotch, but I pulled away. He had turned me down twice now. I didn't know why and feared something unknown, but definitely wrong with me. "Hey, Hey, Becky," he paused. He made me look at him although I was feeling embarrassed and shy. "Becky," a small kiss. "I have every intention of<b> making love </font></b>to you. I just want to do it right. Not some screw in the woods, but in my bed under candle light, no dirt, cold, or perverted horses watching." I had to laugh, feeling better, but still rebuked. Craig continued. "I want you terribly. I want you right now." He put my hand on his hard cock. "But I've waited so long for something that felt this right, I want to make it special." "I think this is special," I said. "I know," said Craig. "That's not what I meant. Today's been great, but Becky," he hesitated, forming the words. "Will you spend the night with me tonight?" "Yes," I whispered, and our lips intertwined. It was a movie kiss: tentative, then lingering, slow, then growing in feeling, force, and duration until I could feel his tongue at the back of my throat. Eventually, he pulled back. "Lets get going," he said. "That bed is at least three hours away." I decided right then and there my goal was to fuck him before we got to a bed. Special was nice, but special was boring. I wanted dirt and cold and perverted horses. I wanted need, uncontrollable lust and spontaneous excitement. We rode in silence for a while as I formulated my plan. "Are you okay?" Craig turned around and asked. "Truth or Dare?" I smiled slyly. Craig laughed. "Twenty-six going on fourteen." "Hey, I resent that." I shouted; flirty banter was step one. "The majority of my worldly knowledge and experience is a direct result of this game." "Well, I'm not playing. A hard on is the last thing I need setting off on a trail ride." Poor, poor men, I thought with sarcastic sympathy. I had the upper hand now. "Okay, then I'll go first, and I pick truth. Ask me anything you want to know." Even though he was facing away, I knew he rolled his eyes in resignation. After a moment he asked, still looking ahead, "What's the wildest place you've ever had sex?" So predictable, that gender, but I had a good one. "In the backseat of a moving car, under a blanket." My pause was met with a you-can-do-better-than-that raise of the eyebrows, so I hit the punch line, "with my parents in the front seat." Craig nodded, satisfied. "And you?" "Maybe, I don't want truth?" he played along, being a smart-ass. I mentally tallied a point. "Well, then I dare you to let me lead." He stopped and effortlessly backed Cashmere a few steps. "Be my guest." I rode confidently by. "Now you have to look at my ass for a while." I stood up in my stirrups, gave dramatic wiggle, kissed my fingers and smacked it on my butt. I silently hoped the trail definition continued; I was not about to ask for directions. I wondered how lost he'd let me lead us. "Truth or dare?" came the voice from behind. Two points for me. "Dare" I said, stoically forward. Right back attcha, I smirked. "Take your bra off." He was good; I'd be okay as long as we kept the horses walking, but there's a good reason why I usually wear a sports bra while riding. I started a slow striptease by crossing my arms and rubbing my back in a "making out with myself" charade. I massaged my breasts as I unwrapped my arms and slowly untucked my shirt. With one hand I effortlessly popped the clasp and took a moment to cop a good feel inside my shirt, for his benefit as well as mine. I pulled one arm into my shirt and slipped the bra strap over my hand, praying that Kora stayed calm. I tucked in the second one and then provocatively drew my black bra out though my sleeve. I dangled it in the air, arm out at my side and then triumphantly hung it on my saddle horn. We continued: sharing fantasies, trick riding with various body parts exposed, taking dirty, and teasing each other mercilessly. Craig and Cash rode along at our side, he had his hand down my unzipped jeans as I stood up in my saddle, hips jutting proudly forward. He withdrew it, sniffed his fingers, blew me a kiss, and we continued hand-in-hand, horses abreast on the narrow trail. It was the most contented silence I have ever experienced. We were in love, we both knew it, although neither one dared interrupt the bliss-filled moment. We got back to the trailer and it was time to put phase two into action. I bent forward at the waist and lay the backs of my hands on the dusty parking lot. I relaxed for a minute and let my spine extend. I was still daringly bra-less and donated a little attention to each as I crossed arms over my chest to stretch out my back. I avoided Craig's eyes, but continued talking casually to be sure he stayed with me. A little groan escaped as I cracked my neck to the side and kneaded my shoulder, the universal signal for "I need a massage." In ten seconds he was there, and his massive hands felt terrific. My orgasmic sighs were absolutely genuine and after about ten seconds, his hands strayed to my chest. My body longed to savor the lusty manipulation, but my strategy was rigid: two steps forward, one step back. So I turned around, nipped his hands and teased, "Breaking the record for world's shortest massage." All business, I started to unsaddle Kora and whispered horsey baby-talk to her, knowing Craig was standing exactly were I had left him. Hopefully, my overt offer after the picnic had planted the seed and our trail ride flirting fed his desire. I felt mine growing out of control but was firm in my resolve not to ask again. I wanted Craig to BEG me. I opened the door and sat sideways on the passenger seat. My hair needed a brush, and luckily there was one in my purse. Long strokes continued methodically even after I removed the tangles. Craig's angular jaw, broad shoulders, and serious expression had transfixed my attention. I hungrily admired everything about him as I pulled a silky lock of my hair over my lips. He was delicious . . . so strong. My body ached while watching as he unsaddled Cash. I spread my legs slightly and focused my stare; it was time, now or never. I had to have that man. My pussy was a vacuum, drawing him toward me. I dropped my eyes and smiled coyly, but extended my legs and willed him closer. My -riding thighs encircled his waist and he dropped the saddle as I squeezed him in tightly. The seat put me higher, so I slid to the edge and down a little onto the throbbing head of his lust-hardened cock. Burning heat smoldered in the denim friction fire as I rotated my hips and he bucked into me. Hands were everywhere: grabbing, scratching, pawing. Our lips, equally greedy, ravaged each other as if we hadn't eaten in weeks. Craig's every kiss took a piece of me: from my earlobes, bottom lip, and jugular vein. I couldn't get enough of him and so we battled on, tongues fighting in one territory then back into the other mouth. He plucked my shirt from my pants and a searing hand branded my back. He pulled me toward him and pushed me back until I was no longer sitting, but smashed some place between his demanding body and the cab's bench. I could hear vehicles whizzing by on the other side of the truck, but their velocity only fed the dizzying frenzy between us. "Becky," he gasped. I felt his thighs shudder from holding my weight, so I steadied myself with feet perched on the running board. His eyes spoke volumes as his expectations of special surrendered to an older, more primitive need. He grasped my right breast, squeezing as one might wring out a sponge. "I can't wait," were his words, accompanied by the heavy breathing of an excited stallion. After another pelvic thrust, in case I mistook his intentions, his eyes darted around. Craig licked his lips, determining the logistics for this new plan. He stripped the blanket from the saddle and flopped it on the ground. I unbuckled my belt and smiled at his scheming. His whole body sandwiched mine as he reached for a jacket on the seat behind me. Craig then crouched down, flapped the jacket with a snap, and covered the sweaty blanket. He raised his brows proudly, a maitre d' setting the table. Then, frantic and silent, he unlaced my boots. I giggled; it was a game show, he was grabbing for money. But, smiling triumphantly, I had already won. After a deep breath, I shimmied my jeans down but left my shirt on. Despite our great day, clouds now covered the sun. Craig's cool middle finger stroked through my sex. I was sloppy and wet, as soft as his hard. After grinding my clit into his hand, I sat down at his feet, bare ass on the jacket. I brought my heels to my thighs, and sweet pussy heat waves invited him in. Heart fluttering in anticipation, I looked up as he undressed. Then image, by image, like a very slow strobe, I saw Craig come down on his knees. He put his hands on mine and ducked down his head. "No, no," I whined, oral sex wouldn't do. "I need to be fucked." It just came out of my mouth. I was much more aware that my cunt lips were throbbing, desire pulsing out. "You want me to fuck you?" he had completely bought in. I nodded and took a little bite of the air. "Is this what you want?" He held the base with his hand. "More than anything else." Before my eyes, our dirty talk enlarged his shaft more. "You want my cock in you?" He was eating this up. "Yes, give it to me, please." "What do you want?" I smiled at his tough voice and trembling hand. In a sultry voice, I answered the command. "I want your cock in me." And with one single stroke, he drove his prick home. And then thrust again, to the core of my being. I gasped from the fullness. "God, you're so big." His eyes twinkled like stars. Boldly, deliberate, he trudged through my juices. Penetrating now, first fast and then slow. I forgot about word games and let my body run wild. Inside, the thrill! I was tickled, electrified, sizzled, and shocked. Then starting over, Craig pounded me raw with that incredible thing. I squeezed his ass cheeks and basked in the pleasure of being well-used. "Yes, yes baby, yes! I needed this bad." Below our whispers, cries and moans, the swampy, smacking sounds told of two people: delighted with life, unabashed in their sex and consumed by each other. Behind the truck's tires, I saw others rushing by. Craig heaved a sharp breath and I thought he might cum. But a still second passed, he shivered, then sank back in slowly. "You make me so hot," he said with a poignant look of control. I ran my hands to his waist and then traced the front of his well-defined hips. When he paused deep inside me, I massaged his thick rod by slowly clenching my swollen walls in sequence. His size made it easy; we were already tight. While invisible muscles caressed him, Craig's whole face relaxed and his dreamy smile returned. "Hmmmm," he moaned and began moving again. This time it was gentler, but I was still way turned on. I wedged one hand down and fingered my clit. That magic button, she works; some things never fail. "Oh god, Oh god . . . Craig." I cried as white lightning shook me. He leaned forward and kissed me; I loved his weight on my chest. He pushed up my shirt and exposed my free tits. Oh, my nipples had been hard for quite a long time, but the breeze, then his mouth drove me over the edge. "Cum with me, baby. You're making me cum." He smiled so big, his eyes shrunk to slits. Then he whipped me away, with pulverizing strokes, to level of pleasure I'd never been to before. My eyes filled with tears and my wails were not words as euphoria burst and saturated my limbs with a feeling of frothy effervescence. When the spasms subsided, I opened my eyes and felt shockingly empty. I could see the gravel embedded in Craig's knees. His face was beet red, and he held his head with one hand, catching his breath. That's when I looked down: my stomach was striped with four ribbons of cum. Craig saw me look and smiled. "You were preoccupied," he shrugged and then laughed in a way that plucked my heartstrings. Like a stealing frosting off a cake, I lifted a finger-full from the thick pearly trails and plopped it joyfully into my mouth. He shook his head and relented, "Girl, you are something else." I stuck my tongue out, he kissed me, and while rubbing the cum into my tits, I said with a wink, "I can't wait for tonight." My blog JimmyB7474 is called Into The Woods (erotica) entertaining stories about a guy named Jimmy. Enjoy. |
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7/11/2017 10:48 pm |
This time? 2 long ones when the characters stopped on the trail and later when they in and outside of his truck.  Jimmy B.My blog JimmyB7474 is called Into The Woods (erotica) entertaining stories about a guy named Jimmy. Enjoy.
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So how many times did you squirt Luv? Jimmy
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7/10/2017 6:14 pm |
OMG Jimmy! You weave a story with the right balance of playfulness, teasing, sensuality and eroticism. My body instinctively responded as the words drew me in. Time to freshen up so I can continue my day and I know I will be imagining 'the rest of the story'  JimmyMy blog JimmyB7474 is called Into The Woods (erotica) entertaining stories about a guy named Jimmy. Enjoy.
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OMG Jimmy! You weave a story with the right balance of playfulness, teasing, sensuality and eroticism. My body instinctively responded as the words drew me in. Time to freshen up so I can continue my day and I know I will be imagining 'the rest of the story'
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7/9/2017 11:06 pm |
Now tell me, who doesn't love a good western every once and a while? Jimmy B. My blog JimmyB7474 is called Into The Woods (erotica) entertaining stories about a guy named Jimmy. Enjoy.
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