0 comments/ 17127 views/ 0 favorites A Famed Brush With Reality By: Wild Bill Several female readers have so graciously complimented my submitted stories, but one in particular really got me thinking. She applauded my written works, but added 'the only way they could be better for me is if they had been written from a woman's point of view – that way I could easily picture myself in the story'. My original plan was to submit only stories based on actual events in my life…but I just had to accept her challenge. * * * * * What a hectic few weeks it had been. A complete whirlwind of photo shoots, interviews and talk show appearances. I sat in the back of the limo as we drove through the city, aimlessly staring out the window as my mind drifted. Dressed in the best money could buy, accessorized in diamonds and pearls, hair perfect courtesy of my personal stylist, courted by the hunks of Hollywood and pretty-boy models…but often wondering what the 'real' world was like. My parents started me young. I was parading down catwalks, face caked in make-up and wearing ridiculous outfits at the ripe-old age of seven, while my friends played jump rope in the street. Countless pageant trophies donned my bedroom walls as I worried about making the finals of the Miss Teen USA contest, while my friends worried about getting their drivers license and who to take to prom. I was strutted under hot lights for innumerable photo shoots before finally gracing the cover of Vogue, while my friends graced the pages of their college graduation directories. And I was fending off advances from 50-year-old directors, while my friends were getting married. I was extremely proud of what I had accomplished, and the money was fantastic (if I ever would find time to spend some of it), but I was now at the age where I was realizing that my childhood had been stolen to fulfill the dreams of my mother, and that all my decisions were made for me by my agent. I was feeling used…empty…alone. "We'll be at the studio in about ten minutes." The voice startled me – snapping me out of my subconscious pity party. I could see the limo driver's eyes in the rear-view mirror staring at me, waiting for some sign that I had heard him. Instead, somewhat irritated that my daydream had been interrupted, I simply turned my head to stare out the window again…watching the buildings go by…observing the 'common' folks hustling and bustling through the crowded sidewalks. Still feeling his eyes on me, I casually reached up and pressed the button, raising the privacy window behind his seat. I had heard rumors that the privacy windows on many limousines are simply a two-way piece of glass allowing the driver to still see what was going on in the back of his car, but just being able to not see his glare made me feel more comfortable. We were sitting in traffic at a red light when my attention turned to the vehicle that had pulled up next to us. It was a white, older model Jeep – dirty chrome wheels and big, rugged tires, a large splattering of dried mud covered the side, the soft top folded down behind the rear seat. The driver, however, is what really caught my eye. He wore a black cowboy hat and aviator shades. His sturdy jaw twitched as he chewed on a toothpick. A white tank top, tight on his well-built torso, showed off solid pecs. His thick, tanned arms rippled with well-defined muscles. Tight, faded jeans stretched over his massive thighs. And a pair of dusty, old cowboy boots. I had seen this attire in many advertising shoots and was never impressed, but this guy had an aura of personality. Strong. Confident. Authentic. He was a real-life cowboy steering his iron stallion through the treacherous canyons of the city. I lowered the tinted window to get a better look. He must have sensed my eyes on him. He turned his head towards me, paused for a brief moment, then tipped his hat and nodded. "Ma'am." With his simple, yet sincere greeting out of the way, he turned his head away. My initial thought was pure shock. 'Didn't he recognize me? Doesn't he know who I am? How can't he? I'm only in just about every magazine, I'm on ads on the side of buses in every major city, I've been on television and…' I stopped myself cold. What a self-righteous, pompous attitude. The exact attitude my father once pleaded I never foster. Obviously I wasn't the center of the universe. There actually were people out there who didn't know who I was…and probably didn't even care, for that matter. I had become so accustomed to public appearances marred by aggressive autograph seekers, amateur photographers, and fans just wanting me to pose with them so their sister or cousin could snap our picture…oh, those were the worst – often prepubescent teens, middle-aged perverts, and even some dirty old men, sneaking an ass pinch or a solid grope as I waited with a fake smile for the cheap, little 35mm flash. It got to the point a few years ago where I was forced to hire a bodyguard for several occasions. Now here I sat. Almost angered by a gorgeous, innocent gentleman with an uncomplicated greeting. Traffic began to move and he pulled away…never looking back for a second glimpse. I raised the window and slumped back in my seat…completely humbled. * * * * * * * After another grueling day of answering the same old questions to a self-proclaimed "leading entertainment advisor" and the mindless DJ of a local radio station, the limo finally pulled up in front of my hotel. The attentive doorman opened the door for me. "Good evening, Miss Simmons." "Good evening," I replied using my best fake smile as I stepped from the car. I felt the eyes of other guests upon me as I rushed through the revolving door and straight to the elevators. Fortunately, the first lift was empty. With hands shaking I slipped my elevator key in for the penthouse level, and as soon as the doors closed I burst into tears. A good cry had been building inside me for quite some time, but the dose of reality from a nameless man earlier that day had pushed me to the brink. Now, finally alone, I let it all go. By the time the doors opened to my suite I was a mess. My supposed waterproof makeup was all smeared and the front of my outfit was riddled with tiny wet spots from my tears. I headed straight for the bathroom, peeling my clothes as I went. Little splashes of cold water on my face, followed by several minutes of removing the remaining makeup, and I was starting to feel better. I stood naked in front of the full-length mirror, staring at the body that brought me fame and fortune. My small, firm breasts still stood proudly high on my chest. My flat stomach, solid ass, and slender thighs were all courtesy of hours in the gym. 'Not bad for pushing 30,' I thought to myself, trying desperately to build some positive energy within. I cupped my breasts in my hands, gently brushing the nipples with my thumb. They hardened instantly. 'Oh, to be with a man who appreciates a good woman,' I continued my thoughts. Over the years I had had my share of one-night fucks with a handful of assholes in the entertainment business…but I was still waiting to make love for the first time. I slipped on the hotel's terrycloth robe and walked out onto the patio overlooking the city, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air. The lights of the city were magnificent – almost soothing – and the sounds from the hectic streets below were barely audible as I stood 52 floors above. Another deep breath, and I felt myself relaxing. I watched the tiny little yellow cabs making their way up and down the main street, like hundreds of ants working into the night. Suddenly, something caught my attention. Just a few blocks up, parked right under a streetlight was a white Jeep. I strained my eyes, trying to see it better, but reality soon kicked in. "Ya, right Jenna," I spoke out loud to myself. "Only a couple hundred Jeeps in this city alone, and you spot one a million miles away and right away think it's his." I laughed at my own foolishness. My eyes continued to drift across the view of the city, but they seemed to always return to the Jeep. After about 15 minutes of senseless debate, I turned and headed for my bedroom with a huge smile on my face. Knowing full well my parents and my agent would seriously frown upon such actions, I was finally going to do something I wanted to do. I frantically dug through my things, picking out a pair of tight jeans, some black silk panties, a black angora short-sleeve top that left my midriff bare, and a black bra…no, wait…I wouldn't be needing that…and with a devilish grin I tossed it back into my suitcase. I paused for a second…heart racing…and then tossed the panties back into the pile as well. I wiggled my ass into the tight denim and slipped the sweater over my head. The soft material felt wonderful against my bare skin and I felt my nipples stiffen again. A pair of black boots with modest heels completed my ensemble. I glanced at my box of make-up then at myself in the mirror. "Au-naturale," again speaking out loud to myself. "Like me for who I am." At an excited pace, I whipped through the lobby of the hotel and out the doors. "May I get you a car, Miss Simmons?" the valet asked when he saw me emerge, arm already up motioning for the first limousine in line. "No thank you," I said with a smile as I rushed past him. "A cab, then, Miss Simmons?" "No thanks," I replied over my shoulder, making my way down the drive towards the main street. With a concerned sound in his voice, he yelled after me, "May I at least provide you with an escort from the hotel?" Without looking back I simply waved my hand in the air as I rounded the turn onto the sidewalk. Wow, did I feel alive! Free! I made it down the street without too many stares from the other folks out enjoying the beautiful Friday evening. They probably thought I may really be me, but then figured I wouldn't be out walking these streets alone at night. Of course, without all the face paint I don't exactly look like the 'me' even I am accustomed to. My heart raced as I neared Jeep…and actually skipped a beat when I saw the mud on the sides. I tried to calm myself, telling myself many Jeeps have the chance to get muddy. It was parked in front of a run-down place called Dusty's Pub…the windows filled with neon beer lights. I took a deep breath and walked in. Now this was a bar! No clean-cut guys dressed in penguin suits carrying trays with martinis…no elegant chandeliers…no soft music coming from some orchestra. No, this was a real bar. A few waitresses scurrying around in daisy-duke shorts and skimpy tops hauling trays full of pitchers of beer…dim overhead lights illuminating the large, smoke-filled room…Garth Brooks blaring from the jukebox. I noticed a lot of flannel, Levis, and cowboy boots – and that was just the women. I was a little over-dressed…definitely the only one wearing angora (in fact, probably the only one in the room who knew what angora was)…but I didn't really stand out as an oddball either. The music didn't stop and people didn't stare as I stood in the doorway. I made my way to the bar and perched myself on a wooden stool at the end, almost hiding in the shadows. "What'll ya have?" The bartender startled me. I was too busy checking out the place and hadn't seen him approach. "Umm…how about a dry Manhattan on the rocks…two cherries, please." The bartender stared at me blankly for a second. "Excuse me?" I quickly glanced down the bar and saw several bottles of Jack Daniels and four ice bins filled with Budweiser and Bud Light. "Bud Light would be great, thanks." The cold beer tasted great as it slid down my parched throat, and my nerves began to calm almost instantly. I continued to survey the place but didn't see 'my man' anywhere. I began to realize it was entirely possible the Jeep outside belonged to someone else, or that he had parked there but gone somewhere different. Just then I noticed a green neon sign hanging over an opening leading to another room…"POOL". Grabbing my beer and slipping from my barstool, I began to make my way through the crowd. I again felt the familiar stares and heard the occasional 'excuse me, but are you…' – their voice muffled by the loud music. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. When I reached the opening to the adjoining room, I paused. More neon beer lights hung from the walls – the only other light coming from the Budweiser lights hanging over four pool tables. The room was mostly filled with men…three women against one wall downing shots, laughing, and trying to sing with the music…a couple in a tight embrace in the far corner, covering each other with sloppy kisses. Then I saw him…my man…slowly pacing around the third pool table down…chalking the tip of his cue…carefully eyeing his next shot. I walked down and leaned against the wall off one end of the table. I was enthralled by his intense concentration. He walked around the end of the table closest to me, paused, and then bent over for his shot. My eyes drifted down his strong back, coming to rest on his beautiful buns wrapped in his faded jeans. I felt a warm, tingling sensation between my thighs – one I hadn't felt in quite some time – and subconsciously crossed my legs. The muscles in his arm rippled as he drew his cue back, then gracefully stroked forward, knocking the cue ball and dropping the eight ball. He straightened with a satisfied grin and casually swiped two $100 bills that had been laying on the edge of the table. "Nice shot," I yelled bravely over the music. He turned to face me, tipped his hat at me for the second time that day, and with a slight nod and a wink, "Thank you, ma'am." He turned back to face the table, then abruptly spun back around. "Pardon me, but…do I know you? You look somewhat familiar." I had heard the line a million times, but his inquiry seemed sincere – as opposed to the ones referring to my magazine ads and television appearances. "We sorta met in traffic earlier today," I replied, stepping towards him. The feeling between my thighs heightened. "That's right!" he agreed. "You're the lady that was sitting in the back of that fancy car. You're looking a lot nicer tonight." I was a little ashamed being connected to the stretch limousine. "That's the beer talking," I said almost defensively. "No, ma'am, I'm afraid it isn't. I don't drink. It's just that you didn't appear to be too happy staring at me from the back of that car. Of course," he continued, "I wouldn't be too happy myself being all stuffy in them fancy clothes and glittering jewelry." I was taken aback. Our brief encounter…no more than a few seconds…and he had read me like a book. Was I that transparent? I suddenly began to feel vulnerable. Anxious…week…a little dizzy. I stepped back and leaned against the wall. "You OK, ma'am?" "Oh…ya, sure…I'm fine," I replied sounding quite unsure and dropping my stare to the floor. My man turned to his buddies and tossed his cue onto the pool table. "I'm done for this evening, folks. See y'all tomorrow night." He turned back to face me, draping one of his strong assuring arms around my shoulder, and, taking my chin gently in his hand, lifted my face towards him. My body immediately tensed – suddenly thinking he was going to try sticking his tongue down my throat right there. But instead he just stared at me with his soft, brown eyes for a moment…studying me…then leaned towards my ear. "Looks like some fresh air would do you good." Once again feeling safe and secure, I allowed him to lead me back through the main room. He acknowledged the bartender with a quick nod before we exited the pub. "Wait," I spoke up. "I didn't pay for my drink." "It's taken care of," he replied assuredly. * * * * * * * Soon we were rumbling down the main city street in his Jeep. The cool evening air felt great, the wind whipping through my hair, and I was feeling much better. As we crossed the bridge over the river heading out of the city the air became much cooler. I felt my breasts harden and nipples stiffen under my soft sweater as a wave of goose bumps shot across my skin. I hugged myself, rubbing my bare arms in a meager attempt to stay warm. I wondered how he wasn't cold in just his tank top…and how the heck his cowboy hat stayed on. My man noticed my discomfort and reached into the back seat, pulling out a well-worn denim jacket with thick cloth lining. Handing it to me, he spoke for the first time since we left the bar. "Here…put this one. This'll warm ya up." And it did. I watched the city lights disappear as we turned down a thin two-lane road. I didn't know where we were headed, but I didn't really care. I felt secure. "So," I said, breaking the silence, "you never told me your name." Without taking his eyes from the road, "Does it matter?" I was a little shocked at his response. "Of course it matters!" "I'm just figurin' a fancy lady like yourself, being toted around the city in a sleek black stretch, is probably in town for just a day or two before jetting off to New York or LA." I got a little frustrated at his response…mostly because he was dead right. I had a photo shoot the next morning and then was flying to New York that afternoon. The odds of me ever coming back to his city were remote. "I would still like to know your name." He glanced over at me and smiled – his white teeth almost glowing in the darkness. "My real name's Homer, named after my grand-pappy on my mother's side, but my friends call me Colt." He offered his hand. I was impressed with his honesty. Not too many rough and tumble guys would confess to being named Homer. Shaking his hand, I properly introduced myself. "Pleased to meet you Homer…I'm Jenna." "The honor is mine. And please…call me Colt." We drove on through the darkness in silence – the only sound was the deep humming of the big tires on the road. After about ten minutes he slowed the Jeep and pulled onto a small dirt driveway (if you could call it that). We passed through an old rickety fence that sat open and followed the winding drive that soon became just two dirt tire trails with grass and weeds growing down the middle. He obviously knew where he was going, and soon pulled off the path…bouncing right across a small field. The moonlight illuminated the surroundings enough to allow me to see the small hill we were climbing, topped with a lonely, old, weather-beaten oak tree. He stopped the Jeep as we crested the top – the view took my breath away. Off in the distance was a clear, panoramic view of the city – lit in all its glory under the midnight skies. You could even see the bend in the river with the reflection of the city slightly blurred by its heavy current. The sky was as black as ever, spotted with thousands and thousands of stars – I had never seen so many stars at one time. With the engine off, only the cricket's song filled the air. My man jumped from the Jeep and came around to my side, offering a hand and helping me down. "This is my land," he stated proudly. "It was given to me by my father before he passed away, and it was his father's before that. Many a city folk have offered big bucks for this land, but I just can't bring myself to giving it up just to be stripped for a subdivision or some shopping mall. Besides, where would I go to get away from life for a while?" I couldn't agree more. That's exactly what I was doing – trying to get away from life for a while. And there was no place I could imagine being that was more beautiful than this. Riding in the Jeep was cold, but standing here with my man's arm around me atop his land, the air felt quite comfortable. I shrugged his jacket from my shoulders and tossed it into the back seat, nestling myself back into his arm. I felt his hand come to rest of my bare waist as he pulled me closer. That warm, tingling sensation between my thighs returned…but this time it continued to spread through out my entire body. A Famed Brush With Reality I turned to face him, draping my arms over his solid shoulders, one hand resting on the back of his neck. Our eyes locked for a moment, then he lowered his head towards me…and our lips met. I opened my mouth, assuming his tongue would dive right in like all the other men I had been with, but instead it traced lightly across my teeth, gently across my lips, then back to my teeth. I found his tongue with mine and guided it slowly into my mouth – and they began to dance…tasting…exploring. His big hands caressed my back, sliding slowly across the soft angora before brushing across the bare area of my lower back. I lifted up on my toes as our kiss grew even more passionate, pressing my body against his. The warm sensation between my legs grew, and I could feel my wetness begin to build. My fingers gripped his shirt and I pulled it from his tight jeans, lifting it up his torso. We broke our heated kiss and he obligingly lifted his arms, knocking his hat to the ground. His shirt was cast aside. I admired his massive pecs, cupping my hands over them and feeling his nipples press against my palm. I allowed my fingers to trace down across his tanned skin until they bounced across his well-defined abs. My man was definitely no slouch – he took care of his body…he took care of it well. My hands slid across his sides and up his back, carefully seeking out every rolling muscle beneath his soft skin. And we kissed again. His hands dropped between us and I felt them loosen the button at the top of my jeans, then slowly lowering the zipper. I was used to the quick snap and zip, followed by a forceful grope between my thighs, and I expected (wanted?) it from my man…but my man was different. Instead his hands returned to my back and somehow managed to wedge between the tight denim and my bare skin, sliding down until they easily cupped my ass. His hands were rough and calloused…but his touch was soft and sure. I leaned into him once again, tongues still entwined, and I could feel his growing bulge pressing against my belly. I let my nails drag firmly down across his back, then cupped his concrete butt, pulling us even closer together. He pulled one hand from the back of my jeans as the other slid over – his middle finger resting along the crack of my ass. His free hand slowly…almost cautiously…began its track up my side…my body beginning to quiver at the mere touch…until it slid beneath my top and encircled one of my breasts. A deep, honest moan slipped from my throat as his thumb traced around my aureole and gently flicked across my hardened nub. The hand on my ass pulled me closer – his finger sinking deeper into my crevasse until the tip pressed teasingly against my puckered hole. No one had ever touched me there…I never let them…but my desire burning within welcomed the new sensation. My heightened sensitivity made my body quiver fiercely from his touch. I could feel my warm juices as they began to trickle from my aching pussy. I guess he sensed my shaky body. The hand expertly toying with my breast slid around my back, and my man easily lifted me, setting me down on the front wheel fender of his Jeep with my feet dangling down over the tire. He stood before me…his awesome chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths…the moonlight glistening off the tiny beads of perspiration across his shoulders. With two quick effortless swipes he removed his boots, then tore off his socks and tossed them aside. What he did next pleasantly surprised me. He knelt on one knee before me, lifted one leg to rest on his thigh, unzipped my boot, gently pulled it off, then gave my bare foot a quick, simple massage. He repeated this for the other foot. I melted. All the guys I had been with in the past, the movie stars and the all-mighty models, would never perform such a frivolous task – they would expect me to shed my own footwear…but not my man. By now I had regained my composure…all though my heart still raced and my pussy dripped. 'I must reward my man for his gentlemanly deed,' I thought to myself. And with that decided, my hands gripped the bottom of my sweater and I lifted it up over my head and off, shaking my head briefly allowing my hair would fall back into place. He stood between my slightly parted legs, his manly hands resting on my slender thighs, staring at the gifts I had exposed for him, then back into my eyes. "Absolutely magnificent!" Of course he would say that! Did I really expect, after how he had acted until now, for him to simply gawk, drool, and paw at my tits like the others in the past? No way…not my man. I took one breast in each hand, gently squeezing and pushing them together and up. "Sorry they aren't bigger." He brushed my hands away and took my breasts into his own. He leaned in, taking one of my rosy nips between his lips. I felt his tongue flicking across the tip, and then he withdrew, tugging it gently between his lips until it painlessly popped free. "No, no, no, ma'am. No apologies needed here. They are beautiful just the way they are." I pulled him to me again for another adoring kiss, feeling my naked chest mash against his. I wanted my man now, but I was willing to endure the anticipation. Sliding my hands over his pecs…down across his rippling abs…fingers teasing the fine hairs trailing from his bellybutton to the top of his jeans. I carefully undid the button and lowered the zipper. Hooking my thumbs into the elastic waistband of his underwear, I slowly began peeling both them and his jeans down his hips, feeling the material stretch as it passed over his perfect ass. A little further and 'THWHAP!' – his massive cock sprung free from its confines, slapping against my wrist. I wanted desperately to see it…to hold it…to taste it…but instead I clung to our heated kiss. I pushed his pants as far down his muscular legs as I could from my seated position on that fender flare, but they bunched mid-way down his massive thighs. I gripped his ass for support and lifted my knees, tracing my feet up along the outside of his legs until my toes were able to hook into the top of his pants and slide them the rest of the way down. He broke from our kiss, stepping out of the pile around his ankles and kicking it all aside. And there he stood in the moonlight…my man…my Texan God…my Adonis…strapping arms hanging to his sides from his immense shoulders…thick legs slightly parted…full balls dangling in the shadows between his thighs…and his cock – oh, his cock…an enormous shaft standing proud from the base of his flat belly…its taut skin revealing the veins carrying the blood to its huge, swollen head…a definite drop of pre-cum glimmering from the tip. "My God!" I gasped, wondering how I was ever going to get this colossal piece of meat between my legs. I slid from my perch and dropped to my knees before him, mesmerized by its beauty, slowly extending a hand and allowing my nimble fingers to wrap around it…well, almost all the way around it. ''Colt' my ass,' I thought to myself. "He's a full-fledged stallion!' I stuck out my tongue and dabbed at the creamy droplet – somehow his tasted better than any before. Opening my mouth as wide as I could, I lowered my head and took him in, the ridge around its head brushing lightly against my teeth as I guided it deep into my throat. I allowed my tongue to explore every square inch of his manhood…tracing along the veins and ridges…circling around the head…teasing the tiny slit. I drew my head back until my lips barely covered the tip, then back down until it breached the limits of my throat. My other hand came up and softly cupped his swollen sac – the gigantic balls easily filling my open hand. Squeezing…rolling…massaging. I felt my man's hand on the back of my head – his fingers locking onto my tangled mane. He began thrusting forward gently, meeting each bob of my head, the tip of his cock diving past my tonsils. I noticed his legs were beginning to tremble…his ass flexing more and more with each stab…his sac beginning to tighten. Squeezing his balls firmly in one hand, the other stroking the last few inches at the base of his shaft, I opened my throat as best I could and took as much of him as possible. I felt his legs convulse and the head of his cock swell against the walls of my throat as my man erupted…his steamy hot liquid pouring down my throat, filling my mouth, and dripping down my chin. I tried to swallow as much as I could as the last few shots poured from his tool. As his body relaxed, I withdrew my head, making sure I lapped up any remaining juices from his bobbing cock. His grip on my head was still firm as I stared up to him, but his head was laid back…his eyes closed tight. I stood in the grass before him, watching him as he caught his breath and returned to his senses, proud of how I made my man feel. "I'm sorry," I said, trying to sound shy and timid. "I don't know what came over me." "I don't either," he replied between breaths, "but I ain't complaining." He stepped towards me and we met for another long kiss. I knew he could taste himself in my mouth, but he didn't seem to mind. Suddenly he broke away and turned me around so I was facing his Jeep. He carefully brushed my hair away from my back, draping it over my shoulder, then leaned down, covering my shoulders with light kisses. I bent forward a bit, grabbing the hood of the Jeep for support. His butterfly kisses began dropping down along my spine as his fingertips outlined my breasts, then traced down my sides even with his gentle lips. My back instinctively arched when his lips brushed the small of my back, and I felt his fingers grab the top of my jeans. Slowly…ever so slowly…he began sliding them down, his kisses continuing their assault on the newly exposed skin. I felt the saturated denim peel from my dripping pussy as my jeans dropped past my ass….and I felt his hot breaths and more soft kisses alternating between cheeks. My pants now to my knees, the sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs were blessed by his gentle touch. His hand slid slowly yet deliberately upwards, through the wetness, until a lone finger brushed between my swollen lips. My body shook, and I tried lowering myself onto his hand…trying to get his finger to sink between the folds…but he pulled his hand away…back down…pushing my jeans to my ankles. I stepped from the pile and parted my legs, hoping he would return his hand to the steaming hole between my thighs. Instead, he stood. His hands rested on my hips as he brought his cock up between my legs until the length of it pressed against my opening. I reached down and grabbed the tip as I rocked my ass back and forth – each stroke lubricating my man's rod with my juices. The fire in my belly was overwhelming, and I guided the tip towards my gap. "No, ma'am," he demanded as he pulled away. "I want to watch your face when we make love." His words pierced me with a never-before-felt warmth. He didn't bring me here just to fuck. I wasn't just a convenient lay. He wasn't here just to get his own rocks off. He knew what I wanted…what I needed. He knew he would probably never see me again, yet he wanted to serve me…to tend to my desires. He felt the erotic electricity between us from the beginning – that's why he took care of me at the pub. And now we were going to make love. He lowered himself onto the cool, dew-covered grass atop the hill, stretching out on his back. His rock-hard staff, pointing to the Heavens, humbled the skyscrapers along the horizon. I stood over him – feet on either side. With a reassuring smile from my man, I slowly lowered myself to my knees. His hands caressed my thighs as I once again told hold of his throbbing monster and, holding it firmly, began to lower myself upon it. An amazing blast of ecstasy shot from my pussy through my body as the engorged tip pressed between my aching folds…and slowly…inch by painfully pleasurable inch…I impaled myself. The inner walls of my pussy eagerly stretched to accept his thickness…my wetness offering a fine lubrication. I rolled my head back and closed my eyes, focusing on our connection. My tiny, sensitive nerves sparked with excitement as I felt him slide deeper and deeper into my belly. Taking a deep breath I accepted the final inches…feeling the tip brush against spots on my innermost walls never before touched. Another shot of ecstasy and my thighs tightened against his hips…my nails digging into his chest…a loud squeal of pleasure broke the late night silence…and my pussy contracted in waves of orgasm, gripping the massive cock inside me. Just when I thought I had recovered, my man reached up and took my tits in his hands, kneading them gently and taking my nipples between his finger and thumb…twisting…rolling…tugging. And my body exploded again, shaking violently. Again he waited for me to catch my breath. As my breathing seemed to mellow, he placed his hands on my waist and slowly began to lift me…his cock withdrawing from my grip…until just the head remained inside…then he pulled me back down…his manhood spearing back into my succulent depths. I quickly grew accustomed to the tight fit and took the liberty of rising up on my knees and falling back on his solid shaft…slowly at first…then faster…my ass slapping against his thighs. With my hands on his chest, I could feel his pecs flex as his arms moved – his hands exploring my body…one second squeezing my ass…the next cupping my tits…then finally dropping to where we joined as his thumb pressed against my swollen clit…. "Uuuunnnnggghhhhhh…." My uncontrollable moan echoed through the darkness as yet another rapturous sensation flowed through my body. He sat up and hugged me until I again caught my breath. My legs stretched out and wrapped around his waist…my ankles locking against his back. I felt so full with his gargantuan cock inside me…I could hardly move. One of his hands gripped my ass and began lifting me up and down – his cock still pretty tight as it drove through my pussy. His other hand slid down my back and over my ass…his middle finger sliding between my crack until the tip once again pressed confidently against my tight rear opening. "Aaaaahhhhhhnnnnnggggg…" Irrepressible noises were flowing from my lips - noises I had never made before. My thighs tightened around his waist as my juices gushed. My man was incredible…sensitive…sensual…knew exactly where to touch…and when. When I caught my breath this time, something came over me…like another person that had been hiding inside me for all these years. I pushed him onto his back and tucked my legs so I was once again on my knees, then began riding his cock like my life depended on it. Up and down I thrust myself…my swollen pussy lips sucking at his well-lubricated cock…my tits bouncing wildly. He arched to meet every down-stroke, driving his manhood even deeper. His hands came up and grabbed at my breasts…pinching my nipples and squeezing my tender mounds. I knew he was trying to maintain control – trying to divert my attention to the tingling sensations flowing through my body. But instead I just drove harder and faster…hands on his chest…fingernails digging into his chest. I watched his eyes shut and head roll back as his entire body flexed beneath me. His hands dropped to a tight grip around my waist for another good thrust…and I felt his lovely cock expand deep inside me…the first few shots of his creamy fluid feeling like powerful jets flushing against my tender inner flesh. I slowed my mount to a seductive pace as his orgasmic throbs began to recede. I rolled my hips forward with each up-stroke…and rolled them backwards with each down stroke. I straightened myself as I rode, bringing my hands to my aching tits and massaging them gently. My pussy still gripped him tight, sucking every last drop of cum from my man. * * * * * * * We talked about various topics on the drive back to town, but my mind drifted – saddened by the fact that I would be leaving my man, possibly never to see him again. As we sat in silence at a red light in the middle of the city, a limousine drove through the intersection in front of us and pulled along side the curb where a small crowd had formed. The door opened and a tall, beautiful woman stepped from the car…flash bulbs popping…pens thrust in her direction seeking an autograph. Did I really want to return to all that? My man once again knew what was swimming through my mind. He reached over and placed his strong hand on my thigh. "Don't worry, Jenna. You will always be with me…in my head and in my heart." His comforting words seemed to make it all OK. His Jeep pulled up the U-shaped drive of my hotel as the doorman rushed to great us. It must have been quite a sight – me sitting in an old, muddy Jeep…my hair a tussled mess…a burly cowboy behind the wheel with a firm grip still on my thigh. "Is everything OK, Miss Simmons?" the doorman asked nervously, extending a hand to help me down from my seat. "Everything is fine, thank you." I turned and looked at my man. He tipped his hat one last time. "Ma'am." I watched as my brush with reality pulled away. My man turned onto the main street and disappeared into the night. Smiling to myself, "Everything is just fine."