2 comments/  26763 views/  5 favorites

Rattlesnake Cantina Girl Ch. 01

By: rockandroller



Fair warning - this story is a little slower to develop than most Literotica tales, including the other ones I've written. Hopefully the extra depth will make the story more enjoyable, and of course there will still be lots and lots of raunchy sex. If you're still interested, dear reader, then come along and listen to the story of a sex-driven girl looking for the right man...

*

.....Friday night -- "Let's go for a ride.."

I walked into the Rattlesnake Cantina hating myself for it. Was I really so damned desperate to meet a cowboy that I'd resort to trolling a country western bar?

It's not like I didn't know what I'd find there -- overweight pretend cowboys drinking beer until they believed they were actually attractive. Yuck.

But I didn't know where else to go. After all, it wasn't as if there were better places to meet a cowboy. It was the wrong time of year for the stock show or the rodeo. What was I supposed to do? Drive from ranch to ranch, introducing myself to the hands? "Hi! I'm Shelley, and I really want a cowboy to play with!" 

Although my deprived pussy believed differently, I didn't think that would work very well at all.

In my experience the kind of cowboy I was looking for existed only in the movies and not in real life. In real life they couldn't hold a decent conversation. In real life they weren't handsome or smart and their personal grooming habits were sometimes lacking. In real life they could handle horses but were hopelessly inept when it came to handling girls.

What I needed was a cowboy like Brad Pitt. Or even better, Tom Cruise. Ohmigod yes! Jeans and a Stetson and a shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons. Tom was the perfect cowboy for a girl to ride. And I had earned the right to call him by his first name after all the masturbating I'd done with visions of him between my legs. His smile always sent warm tingles straight through me, and an especially warm tingle was having its way with me now. I felt silly when I realized that my overactive imagination had gotten me so excited that I was actually looking around the bar for him. 

The bouncer standing just inside the lobby took my driver's license. Phooey. He didn't even look at it. I liked it much better when they thought I was underage.

Still, he was good looking, in a big-cute-guy kind of way. He smiled at me and I smiled back. Things were looking up. I hadn't even gotten all the way into the bar and here was a possibility. Kinda handsome. Catchy smile. He had on jeans, boots and cowboy shirt. The bar probably made him dress that way, but maybe not. Maybe he was a real cowboy and he was just moonlighting at the bar. A girl could hope, right? He was a big boy, and I wondered if that meant what he had under his jeans was bigger, too. Ohmigod, did I just think that? I'm sure I blushed.

I gave him a cheerful smile as I wondered what I could say to let him know I might be interested. Are you a real stallion, or are you just happy to see me? Wanna break in a new filly? I giggled to myself at how wanton I was, even if it was only in my imagination. 

I watched as the older lady behind me held out her hand to be stamped and he gave her the exact same grin he'd given me. Damn. He wasn't smiling at me because he wanted me. He was smiling at me because he was doing his job. Sheesh. I hadn't even gotten into the place and I was already imagining myself fucking the doorman.

I walked inside feeling quite chagrined.

It was a Friday night, and the place was pretty full. Some of the men at the bar were turned around on their stools watching the band. Others were looking at the girls on the dance floor or the little crowd of people at the mechanical bull. Even though I'd only been there a minute I got my first hit of the night.

"Hey, there Missy? What brings you to a place like this? You are the prettiest little thing, but you look parched. Can I buy you a drink?" I was pretty sure the accent was fake. Nobody really talks like that, do they? He was really cute, and he was wearing the prerequisite jeans and hat and plaid shirt. But he was a little wobbly on his feet and staring at me with way too much attention. The beer bottle in his hand obviously wasn't his first. I thought uncharitably that he was probably a TV salesman.

I held up my hand and pointed to the white line on my ring finger where my wedding band used to be. "I just got divorced," I said as if I was too sad to contemplate having someone buy me a drink. I knew that that wasn't a real reason and that I was just avoiding telling him the truth. But he wasn't my type and at least I didn't hurt his feelings that way.

He took my rejection pretty well and wandered back to his friends. I had no idea what I was going to say to discourage men once the line on my finger tanned in.

I wandered down to the end of the bar and bought myself a Goldschlager on the rocks. The barmaid even shook the bottle to make sure the little gold flakes were swimming in the liquor so that I got some in my glass. Good girl. I gave her a big tip. 

I love the elegance of Goldschlager, it makes me feel all grown up and sexy. But I only have it on special occasions, and I had decided that maybe if I took the initiative in making tonight special then it really would be. I closed my eyes to the crowd and the noise and raised the glass to my lips. I downed half the drink, thinking to myself, "Real cowboy, real cowboy, real cowboy, real cowboy." The fiery cinnamon taste warmed me all the way through, centering on the liquid flames between my legs which didn't really need the extra fanning, thank you very much.

I took my glass with me as I wandered through the bar. I kept getting hit on. Boy after boy showered me with compliments as if it would help them get into my pants. "You have the most beautiful smile." Or, "Can I borrow a quarter? I want to call my mom and tell her I just met the girl of my dreams." Or, "What time do you have to be back in heaven, darlin?" Or, "God, you're cute. How about a date?" It's always good for my ego to hear that I'm pretty or that I have a sexy smile, and I felt awesome whenever some stranger paid so much attention to me.

Even so I turned them all down. If the best conversational gambit they had was to try to butter me up as a prelude to an assault on my honor then I didn't want anything to do with them.

My roommate Eva says she's been observing me for years and that I'm 'blithely unaware' of the effect I have on men. She says they tend to lose their minds around me because they're so smitten. They start complimenting me over and over because they're instantly infatuated and I just drive all other conversation out of their minds. I don't know about that, but Eva swears it's true. She says that if I'd just give them a chance to get it out of their systems and start acting normally I might learn they really weren't shallow. Some of them, anyway. I think Eva's full of it.

Anyway I was through with boys who wanted to get into my pants so badly that they couldn't be themselves. I never could stand fawning men. And I sure as hell wasn't going to be somebody's Friday paycheck. Unfortunately, those restrictions seemed leave me without many men to choose from.

There was this one guy who had a merry twinkle in his eye when he asked me to dance. He had the right clothes, he seemed gentlemanly and smart and he wasn't tipsy. He was probably even a real cowboy. But I didn't want him even thinking he was going to get anywhere with me because he looked almost old enough to be my dad -- can you imagine? Yuck. I told him my date was waiting for me on the other side of the room.

I caught the eye of a lanky boy in jeans and a big belt buckle. At least he was closer to my age. He said that his name was Bobby and that he really was a cowboy, but I didn't believe him. We talked for a little bit. He managed to restrain himself from giving me too many compliments, but I don't really remember what we talked about. As usual I was imagining what he'd be like in bed, and I liked the mental image of tangling my fingers in his hair while he sucked my breast. I decided that he was promising enough that I could have a little fun stringing him along. I sure as heck wasn't feeling any of those sparks that I was craving, though. He asked me if I wanted to dance, and of course I said yes. I love to dance, even though I don't think I'm very good at it. It was a slow song and Bobby held me a little close, but not too bad. 

He was sweet enough that I didn't object when his hands started roaming all over my body. Bobby steered us over to the corner of the dance floor so that he could steal a kiss. But he got carried away pretty quickly, ardently kissing me as if we were about to have sex instead of just doing some innocent-but-fun first time necking. He started to nibble on my lips which made me giggle. When he asked me what was so funny, and I gave him some crap about how I was laughing because I liked what he was doing.

I finally managed to extricate myself by telling him I had somewhere else to be. Like to go and find a real man. Loser.

I was tired of all of the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of cowboys. Too old. Too drunk. Too pushy. Too ugly. And I couldn't even picture most of them actually riding a horse, never mind being the right guy for me. Cowboys, my butt. Insurance salesmen, computer weenies and convenience store clerks is more like it. I knew it was a mistake to come here. I needed a break.

I was standing near the wall by a bunch of those little round tables that exist only in bars. A pretty girl can always manage to find a chair in a bar if she wants one, but I wasn't in the mood to have to fend off another attack, and all of the empty chairs I could see had unappetizing guys next to them.

My attention wandered up to the stage, where a rockabilly-country band was holding court. They were good and loud and playing the kind of music that country-bar crowds just love to hear. I liked the skinny guy who was singing and playing guitar. He wore dark glasses and was dressed all in black, which made him look kind of cool. They were playing a catchy number that sounded like something Elvis might have sung.

Maybe someday you'll realize I was good for you Maybe someday you'll learn to love me too Maybe someday you'll understand my love was true But honey that might be the day I'm over you

He sang as if he meant every word; a personal heartbreak of his disguised in a bouncy song to help him forget the girl who did this to him. It tore my heart out at the same time it made me want to dance. I thought seriously about lowering my sights from 'cowboy' to 'guitar player,' so that I could help him forget her, whoever she was.

"They're pretty good," said a voice from behind me, talking kind of loud so I could hear him over the band.

I turned around to look at the man who had spoken and immediately forgot all about broken hearted skinny guitar players. And I really wished that I'd decided to wear my glasses. I could see him well enough, but he was so near my idea of the perfect man that he took my breath away, and I wished I had that little extra clarity my glasses added.

He was sitting low in a chair with his feet stretched out in front of him. Every inch of him from his head to his boots screamed 'relaxed cowboy'. I could feel my eyes widen, trying to take him in. He was definitely older than me, but not by too much. There was a touch of gray at his temples and I recognized the weathered look around his eyes of too much time in the sun. He wore jeans and a cowboy shirt with his boots, and it wasn't at all hard to picture him comfortably riding a fiery steed. My knees went weak and my breathing got deeper.

I clenched my pussy, trying to get it to stop sending 'take me now' signals. He looked like the model for one of those bronze Remington statues - handsome, masculine and rugged, with an air of self reliance. The little corner of my mind that wasn't taken over by lust tried to reason with me - he just had to be too good to be true. If this guy was a real cowboy, then I was a princess.

He tipped his beer bottle at the empty seat next to him, silently offering it to me. I realized that I'd been staring at him for far too long. I'm sure I looked flustered but he didn't seem to notice. I couldn't believe how lucky I was -- he was not only the best looking guy there but he looked like he might even be a real cowboy. He didn't already have a girl on his arm, and he was asking me to sit with him.

I plopped down in the chair, trying to look casual and not spill my drink. I needn't have bothered, because he didn't pay any attention to me at all. He didn't talk to me or even spare me a glance. It was as if I wasn't there and he was perfectly content just sitting, sipping beer and perusing the crowd. 

I couldn't believe it. Why did he even ask me to sit with him if he was going to ignore me? Didn't he feel the spark between us? Couldn't he tell that he could have me? I sipped the last of my Goldschlager, trying to bolster my courage and calm my raging hormones at the same time. I didn't want to just throw myself at him, but with my pussy screaming at me like that it was pretty hard to think.

What could I say? "Hi there, handsome. Come here often?' God, how lame. 'Can I buy you a drink?' Way too desperate. I knew in my bones that if I said the wrong thing he'd just get up and leave. I had a new appreciation for the courage of the guys who had been hitting on me. And their lines seemed positively eloquent compared to what I was coming up with. I resolved to cut them a little more slack in the future. Maybe Eva was right after all.

My mind was racing, and I was afraid that he'd find something more interesting to do than sit next to a girl who couldn't even talk. Exasperated with myself for not coming up with anything better, I finally decided to go for the direct approach. "Thanks for the seat. My name's Shelley."

He slowly swung his head around and looked at me, sizing me up. He exuded confidence; an aura that said he didn't care one bit whether or not a pretty girl with a needy pussy was sitting next to him. He took a sip from his beer and went back to watching the crowd. 

"I'm Ethan," he said coolly. I fell in love with that name right then, and I decided on the spot to name my first son Ethan. His son, if I got lucky. Damn. Two words from him and we were already friends, lovers and parents. I really needed to learn how to harness my imagination for good and not for evil. 

"Frome?" I asked brightly. It was mean of me to test him, but how many times in her life does a girl get an opening like that?

He took a sip from his beer and thought about my question as he looked at the crowd. After a few seconds of silent contemplation he arrived at some conclusion. Slowly he sat up straight and turned in his chair so that he was facing me across the table. He took another sip from his beer as he stared at me analytically.

The combination of lights from the stage and the brightly colored neon bar signs danced in his eyes, which were a color I'd never seen before, a dark amber gold. God, they gorgeous. I'd never seen anything like it, and my infatuation ratcheted up another knot.

I sat there patiently, trying my best to smile and look fetching even though I could feel myself chewing my bottom lip. I was mesmerized by those eyes. They captured my breath and I loved it.

Finally a reluctant smile came over his lips and he chuckled to himself, a deep throaty sound that was so masculine it sent delicious shivers between my legs. I was immediately addicted. He took an interest in the label on his beer bottle, amused but not wanting to look at me while he answered.

"No, I am not a man who was cursed to love the wrong woman so he crippled himself by riding his sled into a tree."

I was caught, dammit. He had compressed the plot of the famous book into one succinct sentence. I cursed myself for my clumsy attempt to find out if he had any brains. But it didn't seem like he held it against me.

He laughed again, knowing that I'd been testing him, but not at all concerned about it. He looked up at me again. "My name's Russell. Ethan Russell."

God, I loved his eyes. Even if it turned out that he wasn't a real cowboy I wanted him. And that wasn't just my pussy talking, either.

"So, Miss Shelley, it seems that you're a pretty sharp cookie, aren't you?" he said, a question that didn't really seem to call for an answer. He looked straight at me as he spoke, all of his attention focused on me. I love that. "Are you a student?"

I was amazed that he'd discerned that, and it caused me to giggle. My school studies had been interrupted by my marriage, and I'd only recently gone back. I was just enough older that I knew I didn't really look like a college student. So how had he known?

"Yep. I'm studying accounting and the effects of newly divorced girls on the male student population.

Ethan laughed and said, "Have you always been this cute, or do you work at it?"

I tried not to blush but I'm pretty sure I didn't succeed. Why was it that the flirtatious compliments from all the other guys couldn't do that to me?

Fortunately he didn't seem to want an answer. 

Ethan asked me about my classes and told me a few stories from his college days and how different things were back then. When I asked him what he did for a living he managed to duck the question, but I was smitten enough not to push it. We started making fun of the pretend cowboys in the bar, trying to guess what their real occupations were. I was having enough fun talking to him that I was able to keep my pussy from intruding into the conversation, although I wasn't able to keep it from getting slippery. 

I decided to hell with how alcohol always goosed my lust and let Ethan buy me another drink when he ordered another beer. With any amount of luck it wouldn't matter how horny I got because Ethan would be ramming his cock into me.

The vision of me on my back with my legs spread wide and Ethan inside me stole enough of my senses that I didn't realize that my mind had wandered away from the conversation. But I could tell he'd asked me a question and I struggled a second before I could recall it. "So what brings you to the Rattlesnake Cantina alone on a Friday night?" 

Jeez. How could I answer that? Should I lie? Say something funny? Or had he heard my insistent slit screaming out for a cowboy? My mind struggled with so many ideas that I couldn't sort them all out. He was so cute that I just wanted to spread my legs, jump on his lap and kiss him over and over; to give in to the wanton hussy that my pussy knew me to be. I wanted to say, "You! You! You!" Was he assuming that I didn't want him? Or did he just want to hear it from me? Was he so confident because he knew he could have me? Didn't he want to fuck me? I squirmed in my seat, trying to still the disappointment between my legs.

I was so busy thinking and fidgeting that I almost forgot to answer him, and when I realized the silence had been stretching on way too long I said the first thing that came to my mind.

"Nothing." Damn. That was so stupid. 

He nodded slowly and his eyes wandered around the bar once, taking in all of the men in cowboy shirts as if he'd just noticed them for the first time.

There was that chuckle again, and I blushed at the feelings it engendered down below. Good thing it's hard to see if somebody's blushing in a bar.

"I'll bet I know. I'll bet you're a buckle bunny."

"No!" I said. Then belatedly I realized that a truly good girl probably wouldn't even know what he was talking about. "What's a buckle bunny anyway?" I asked, cursing myself for the transparency of my answer. Besides, how the hell did he know I was a buckle bunny? 

He ignored my feigned ignorance, graciously pretending that he didn't know I was lying.


Rattlesnake Cantina Girl Ch. 01



"Well, you're not a Best Buy bunny, right? You're not into guys who wear blue shirts and sell computers and cameras and stuff, right?"

I laughed. "You're kidding, right?"

"And I guess you're not a badge bunny."

"Nope." I was on pretty sure ground on that one. Policemen didn't do a thing for me.

Ethan looked around theatrically as if to be sure that no one was listening to us. He leaned close and pretended to whisper a confidence in my ear. "At least I could understand it if you were a badge bunny. There's something about a guy with a long nightstick that a girl's just naturally attracted to." He nodded sagely at me as if he'd imparted some serious wisdom instead of a suggestive wisecrack.

I cracked up. Ohmigod -- he had a dirty mind, too! While Ethan smiled at the success of his joke I wondered if he knew what every girl knows - that a man who can make her laugh is halfway there.

"So, I guess you must be a buckle bunny after all," he said reasonably.

"Well, maybe," I said smiling. "A little." I had to give him a little encouragement, right?

Besides, it wasn't as if I'd shared some of my darker desires. The ones that Connor could never satisfy. I had learned in my A.D. (after the divorce) life that I was pretty reluctant to let a guy know the kinds of things I wanted. I didn't think they were really kinky, but in the wake of how intimidated Connor became when I discovered them I had become almost afraid of them. Maybe guys didn't really like to do that kind of stuff. Maybe they'd all be intimidated by how much I thought about sex.

It always seemed like my desires were foremost in my mind, tempting me to turn into a bad girl. They bubbled away merrily just under my everyday thoughts, ready to draw me into trouble. I was always picturing myself screwing every guy I met in every position that I could imagine, as if I had no other reason to exist than as a fuck-toy. 

But I'd never cheated on Connor even though for most of our marriage I was in a constant state of need. I longed for every good looking man I met to sweep me off my feet and fuck me that way that Connor never did. It was the combination of my thirst and his unwillingness to even try to slake it that led us to divorce.

And A.D. there had been plenty of opportunities. In the couple of months since the divorce had been finalized it seemed like there were lots of boys who would be willing to screw me. Professors, students, old friends and friends of friends. But my own fears kept me from sleeping with them. What if they were turned off like Connor was? What if my desires intimidated other men like they did my ex husband? I didn't think I could stand that.

I also didn't think I could stand it if I discovered that my thirsty pussy was leading me astray; that its hungers were only a passing fancy. Maybe it was only begging for kinky things because my sex life with Connor was so unsatisfactory.

So in spite of all of the offers, in spite of all of the handsome students and professors around me, in spite of the years of pent up unfilled desires and fighting my high-octane libido, I still hadn't had any A.D. sex. But I knew that it was only a matter of time. I was happy to be free from Connor, and I remained hopeful that the man I gave myself to would take me the places I wanted to go.

Ethan was so damned handsome and confident. He was self-assured but not stand-offish about it. He could make me laugh, he was handsome, and best of all he had a dirty mind. He liked me, too - I could tell by the way that he paid attention to me when I talked. Smitten wasn't a strong enough word. 

Of course my wanton side wanted to blab my secrets right away. I went positively squishy between my legs as I imagined whispering in his ear that I'd love it if he'd just spank me and tie me up. That would get his attention! Should I even tell him about my secret longing for a cowboy? My pussy was telling me to scream it at him, but I knew it would be better to approach that stuff slowly. After a quick fuck in the ladies room, maybe?

Oh, God. Why was my libido always trying to assert itself and lure me into trouble? I was always being tempted to follow the longings of my pussy; to let myself be consumed by its constant demands for sex. 

As I watched Ethan talking it occurred to me that he had a kind of Tom Cruise look about him. Something around his eyes and in his little-boy grin. I squinted, trying to bring him a little better into focus. Yep. There was definitely a Tom Cruise vibe going on. Older, and with more gray hair. But something about him reminded me of good ol' Tom, who had fucked me hard and often in my dreams. I smiled happily to myself -- the man in front of me really was my dream lover personified.

"I think she's had enough," Ethan said to the waitress, laughing and putting his hand over the top of my glass. I hadn't even noticed her, and I realized that I'd been squinting and smiling way too long.

He laughed, but thankfully didn't ask me what I'd been thinking. He was right. The Goldschlagers had left me a little tipsy and had worked their usual deviltry on my pussy -- I was as horny as hell. I was swaying a little in time to the band, dreamily imagining Ethan sliding himself into me.

The fire between my legs was such a constant in my life that I could barely function sometimes. I had to masturbate often just to keep it in check, so that I could go to class and study and run errands and do the thousand-and-one things that made up the rest of my life. I liked my sensuality and I wouldn't have traded it for the world, but it was a daily struggle to keep the pussy fires from burning me alive.

Ethan drained the last of his beer and stood up. He held his hand out to me and said, "Let's go for a ride."

Ohmigod. Ethan and me in his car? I couldn't believe my luck. His house? Mine? Or maybe a motel where he could mount me for a filly ride. Or even better, maybe he wanted to fuck me in the back seat. Delight blossomed in my pussy and radiated out to my heart. I loved car sex.

B.C. (before Connor) I had done it in the car pretty often. My boyfriend Ray was older than me but not as old as Ethan. He had a job working in a garage and a sweet little wife named Linda. The rat eventually broke off with me so that he could be with her. It's not like I was trying to steal him or anything. I just really loved the urgency of our couplings, the wicked flavor of taking another girl's husband and driving him haywire by fucking him in ways that she never would.

Back then the world of sex was a giddy whirlwind that I was sure would never end. I think maybe my whole marriage I was just trying to recapture those wanton uninhibited times when I felt so alive and needed.

It made me bashful to remember how shameless I had been in those days. One time during a trip through the automatic car wash I had ripped off my shorts, jumped on Ray's big cock and fucked him to a soppy climax before the dry cycle. The look in his eyes made it totally worth it. Another time I had given him a hand job while I slid my pussy up and down his stick shift, and I'm not talking about his cock, either. And there were lots and lots of backseat fucks. Front seat ones too, for that matter.

After Ray left me I resolved to take the bull by the horns. Instead of using my pussy as the litmus test of my lovers I was going to use my head and my heart. That was when I met Connor. He had seemed so strong and capable. He wanted to take care of me, which was an allure I found hard to resist. Our lovemaking was fun but not magic, and I convinced myself that I would love him forever. I married him not knowing how neglected my pussy would come to feel, or how frustrated I would become trying to change him. We were in trouble after a few years. I stayed with him because I was certain that eventually Connor would become the lover I needed. But he never did, and so, over his objections, I filed for divorce.

Now I was right back where I'd been B.C., looking forward to the naughtiness and inevitability of doing it in the car because my new lover couldn't wait until we could get to a bed.

I simpered and blushed and put my hand demurely in Ethan's so that he could help me to my feet. I could feel my heart racing, pounding as hard as it would be if he was already thrusting himself inside me. I was finally going to have my first A.D. sex, and it was going to be intense and rushed in the back seat of a car the way that all really hot love affairs should begin. I was flustered with the thought. Ethan gently pulled me to my feet and led me away.

I was so wrapped up in anticipation that I didn't notice at first that he wasn't leading me to the door. Dammit. Once again my neglected slit had led me to abandon rational explanations. It insisted on feeding my libido pictures of back seats and big cocks and dripping pussies. I was chagrined when I realized that instead of pulling me to his car and a hard fuck Ethan was leading us over to the mechanical bull.

I giggled at how my lust had tricked me again, which made Ethan smile. He asked me what I was giggling at, and I told him nothing. As we got near the corner of the bar where the bull was Ethan asked if I'd ever ridden one, and I confessed that I hadn't. 

"But I'm always ready for a good ride," I giggled. I knew that his dirty mind wouldn't miss the offer. Ethan put his arm around me, with his hand on my waist. I snuggled into him, loving the lanky-as-a-whip feel of his body.

There was an inflatable cushion all around the bull for thrown riders to fall on. And around that there was a wooden fence that resembled a miniature corral. The metal sign attached to the fence said that the bull was Tornado, and that he was the 'Meanest, buckingest bull this side of the Pecos.' We got in the short line to wait our turn, and swayed gently together to the music from the band while we watched the would-be cowboys trying to prove their studliness.

To further the illusion that he was real they had covered Tornado in brown and white cowhide. He even had fake horns and a mean look in his eye. Tornado was rocking wildly in all directions and now that I was closer, I was kind of intimidated when I saw the poor would-be cowboy trying to hold on fly off and land in a heap on the floor.

Everybody laughed, even Ethan, so I guess it was all right. The guy jumped to his feet, trying to look like he'd meant to fall off. Probably an accountant, in spite of his western clothes.

While I was tucked under Ethan's arm I glanced up at him. I pretended not to notice that he'd been looking down my shirt but I was secretly pleased. I'd had nice tits since I was sixteen; perfect firm handfuls that loved to be squeezed. When he wasn't looking I managed to surreptitiously undo the next button on my shirt so that next time he would have a better look. A whole bunch of would-be cowboys might get a cheap thrill if my breasts got bucked out of my shirt by ol' Tornado, but I didn't care. I felt sexy and I wanted Ethan to be able to appreciate them. To appreciate me.

The next guy up was Bobby, the boy who had nibbled my lips and made me giggle. He looked a little wobbly on his feet, and for a second it looked like he was going to fall off before he even got on. I felt kind of bad, wondering if he'd still be sober if I hadn't abandoned him on the dance floor.

Once he was settled on Tornado he looked around to tell the guy to start it up. Just before the mechanical bull rumbled to life Bobby spotted us by the fence. He grinned straight at us, gave us a hurried 'thumbs up,' and then grabbed on tight. Obviously he was trying to tell me that this ride was for me, to prove that he was so studly I should dump Ethan and run off with him. As if.

His plan didn't work, though. He held on with one hand and waved his other above his head, just like the guys who ride real bulls. But he was thrown pretty quickly, and the little crowd around Tornado laughed good-naturedly as he picked himself up and dusted himself off.

Ethan yelled, "Better luck next time, pardner!" and Bobby grinned and waved at him and walked off to his friends who had been watching.

The next guy had better luck. He held on for a long time as Tornado bucked harder and harder. It looked pretty scary to me but he managed to stay on for the whole ride and everybody clapped and cheered.

Then it was our turn. Ethan paid the guy and talked to him for a minute while I wandered over to Tornado. Up close he was even bigger than I'd thought. I was wondering how to climb up when Ethan came over and gallantly boosted me up. I loved the feel of his hands around my waist, and I couldn't help wondering if he'd put his hands there when he fucked me. I spread my legs wide and settled onto Tornado.

I was surprised when Ethan climbed up behind me, because I'd only seen people riding individually before. Not that I was objecting. He settled himself snugly against me like two lovers spooning and put his hands on my waist. I couldn't have cared less about riding the bull, I just loved being nestled against Ethan. He nodded at the guy to turn Tornado on.

Obviously Ethan had told the guy to go easy on us because Tornado's gentle undulations were nothing like the rough bucking he gave the other riders. We slipped forward and back and around in lazy circles, movement that was sensual rather than abrupt.

Ethan put his arms around me, pretending to help me stay on top of the not so bucking bull. His fingers splayed on my tummy between the top of my jeans and my breasts. I held on to his well-muscled arm, not allowing him to let go of me even if he wanted to. He pulled me even closer and I closed my eyes and shuddered in delight as I snuggled against him.

Every time Tornado dipped we would slide forward a little bit, causing a delicious hard tug on my pussy lips. And then when Tornado went back the other way I would slide deeper into Ethan's grasp. The sensation was exquisite. Almost immediately my breathing got deep, and it seemed that no matter which way Tornado moved I couldn't wait for him to go the other way -- forward to cause that delicious pull on my wet slit, or backward into Ethan's warm arms. I wanted them both at the same time and the tease was driving me crazy.

I was in some kind of innocent erotic heaven. In front of the fake cowboys and barmaids and anyone else who cared to watch I sat on the mechanical bull, my legs spread wide while I creamed my panties, snuggling in the arms of my lanky cowboy. Oh, God.  

Ethan snuggled contentedly against me and to my delight I could feel him getting hard, his cock pressing insistently against me. It seemed that he liked having me in his arms as much as I liked being there. I had practically melted against him, and every time Tornado leaned forward my pussy got tugged and a little gasp of delight escaped my lips. As we were gently rocked back and forth Ethan pushed my hair away from my ear and whispered, "Does this count as a good ride?"

I wiggled against him and made a yummy sound to let him know that there was no place I'd rather be. He began gently nibbling on my throat with his lips, sending delectable shivers all through me and causing good-natured cheers from the spectators. The shivers, the booze, my pussy getting the attention it was always clamoring for, Ethan's well-corded arms around me, a big insistent cock that was only a few layers of material away - all worked together in divine concert to send me into a world of my own, an erotic haze that pushed the rest of the world away.

All too soon it was over as Tornado slowed and stopped.

Ethan dismounted and I was really glad when he helped me down. My legs were all quivery and if he hadn't been there to lean on I would have fallen. The little crowd clapped and whistled for our show of talented bull riding, throwing in a few good natured 'get a room' comments. 

Ethan took my hand and started leading us to the door. Fuck me now, my pussy said. Fuck me hard and fast. Of course I wanted to let it have its way, right there on the floor of the Rattlesnake Cantina, but with Ethan pulling me on my shaky legs through the bar it was just too hard.

"You need some fresh air, don't you?" he asked in a tone that suggested that he knew the answer better than I did.

He gathered me under his arm and we nestled together and walked out of the bar and into the parking lot. I loved being snuggled against his side, the feel of his crisp plaid shirt, the masculine scent of his after-shave. My pussy had reached a plateau of gushiness, secure in the knowledge that soon Ethan's big cock was going to plunder it silly.

Ethan stopped us in a puddle of dark between the rows of cars. The lights and noise of the bar were distant and unreal. I knew what he wanted. He couldn't wait one second more to taste me, and I was so ready for that first kiss.

"Well, Miss Shelley. I have to be gettin' on home now," he said in an exaggerated John Wayne accent. He brushed my hair back gently and I shivered from his touch.

"But I'd be much obliged if I could call on you tomorrow." He dropped the cowboy accent so that I'd know that he was serious, and he looked deep into my eyes while he waited for an answer.

I was stunned. My pussy wasn't as smart as I was, though, and it continued to purr and trickle fuck-me-now cum into my panties. I knew what Ethan was saying even though my pussy hadn't figured it out yet -- this was adios. There was to be no fucking tonight. 

I bit my tongue and tried not to scream 'why?' at him. Why not now? Why don't you want to fuck me? God, didn't he feel every fiber of my body calling him? How could he be so dense? I was his. All he had to do was pull me to his car and he could do anything he wanted to me. Anything. Disappointment threatened to submerge me, to drown me like a kitten in a gunny sack thrown into the river. 

I nodded, unable to trust my voice. I felt like a little girl after her spanking trying to deal with the disappointment of being punished and at the same time trying to be brave for daddy. Ethan looked in my eyes for a moment and nodded back at me, sealing our pact to see each other again. Then he kissed me on the forehead. 

Maybe I could change his mind. I'm not without feminine skills, and if ever there was a time to use them, this was it. I put my hand behind his head and pulled his lips to mine. My pussy spasmed as our lips touched, a quiet appeal for sex, for a big cock and a good cum. But Ethan drew back after a quick kiss. He held my shoulders in his arms, staring at me like he did in the bar, sending shivers down my spine as he read my soul with his gold eyes.

He ran his hands lightly down my arms, teasing me with his touch. His hands ended up around my wrists and he tightened his grip, tight enough to hurt. Forcefully he pushed my hands behind me and held them together as if they were cuffed behind my back.

For that first kiss I had kept my hand up like I always did, resting on Ethan's chest. That way if he got too frisky too quickly I could push him away. A girl's got to be careful, you know? But with my hands pinned behind me that option was gone and somehow that caused my breath to quicken, my mind to explode. My nipples poked into Ethan's chest and I tried hard not to rub them up and down on him. A girl's got to at least try to show some restraint, right?

But there was no denying the effect that restraining my hands had on my pussy. I'd drooled enough juice into my panties that it was a wonder they hadn't dissolved like cotton candy in a glass of Mountain Dew. My knees were shaking as he leaned forward to give me a real kiss.

His lips were demanding and confident, a bellows blowing straight into the flames inside me. He stoked them, intensified them until I couldn't stand it any longer. I was burning up from the inside, and Ethan used our kiss as a sizzling conduit to draw the blaze from me into him. I shared it with him gratefully, gladly. 




Rattlesnake Cantina Girl Ch. 01



The kiss was long and wet, and when we broke apart we were both breathless. This time I was able to read his eyes. Desire. Raw animal longing.

Ethan let go of my hands so that he could tangle his fingers in my hair. Oh God. How the hell did he know that I liked that? I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him close, allowing myself the tease of rubbing my nipples on his chest. He tightened his grip on my hair enough to hurt, and he positioned my head just where he wanted it. The pain and his confident demand for a kiss merged with the fire between my legs.

This kiss was longer, wetter and even more intense, which caused my pussy to gush happily, knowing a good fuck was so close. Our lips swirled together, slipping and gliding, our tongues lightly tasting. He was heaven in a pair of jeans and cowboy boots, and I knew he wanted me by the log I could feel pressing against my tummy.

I wanted him, too, and I was sure that I had him. We finally had to come up for air and leaned away from each other, sharing that delicious first time realization that we really could turn each other on, that the magic was there. His grip loosened and I tossed my head to free my hair. 

"Oh, don't you pretend that you didn't like it, cowgirl," he said, laughing softly.

I giggled. "I did, but how did you know? Is that something those buckle bunnies like?"

"I don't know nothin' 'bout any buckle bunnies," he said. "I just know you, Miss Shelley."

My body just gave up and turned into a pool of melted butter. I blushed and tried to come up with a witty rejoinder but before I could Ethan gave me a quick kiss on my lips, a kiss so short it was over before I could even get into it. "Thank you Miss Shelley. Goodnight," he said. Abruptly he let go of me, turned away and walked off into the darkness of the parking lot.

My pussy finally caught up with what was happening. Wait! Come back! What about meeeeee? Poor sulky pussy. I promised it a good petting later, telling it I know it's not what you want, but you'll just have to make do with my fingers tonight.

I mustered what little willpower I had left and didn't chase after him. I was still breathless and I wanted nothing more than to cradle Ethan in my arms, rip off his clothes and see what we would be like together. But it was probably better this way no matter how happy it would make my pussy. I'd feel pretty slutty sleeping with a guy on our first date even if he was the most delicious man I'd ever seen. On the other hand I wanted him so badly I could cry. Reluctantly I tried to focus on the positive -- he said that he was going to call me. He said he was going to call me. I smiled to myself when I thought of being with him again.

I imagined Ethan's big cock and my drippy pussy (shut up down there!) meeting, and I giggled with joy and got a case of happy feet. I practically gamboled across the parking lot like a foal who's just discovered how to run, giddy with how close I'd come to getting laid and the memories of Ethan's kisses, his skinny body and his insistent cock pressing against me. 

This was going to be fun. 

*

Next: Saturday night date and first time sex in the truck...

As always, thank you for your votes, comments and feedback. If you enjoyed this tale, please do take a look at some of my others too and let me know what you think... 



Rattlesnake Cantina Girl Ch. 02



Saturday night – date night in the mountains

"And you didn't go home with him?"

I had to laugh. Eva's like the bestest friend that a girl could ever have. She took me in after I left Connor and we'd become even closer. She was always looking out for me, and according to her the best thing for me would be a studly man to screw me silly the way that my ex never could. 

"Nope." I laughed again. "What kind of girl do you think I am, anyhow?"

Of course Eva knows exactly what kind of girl I am, but I think I've managed to hide from her just how overwhelming my desires can be. As good a friend as she is, I'm pretty certain that her pussy doesn't push her around like mine does me.

For example, I'd had to run to my room and play with myself as soon as I'd gotten home last night. My pussy demanded it, and I was her willing ally. After all, I had promised her that I'd try to make up for not getting fucked by Ethan. I ripped off my clothes, propped up my pillows, spread my legs and took my time giving my soaking slit the attention that it had been clamoring for. I panted and gasped in pleasure when the orgasm took me, and when it was over I curled around my pillow, pretending that it was Ethan Russell. Nestled comfortably in his arms I drifted off to a peaceful nights sleep. I should have known better.

The problem was that one whopping cum wasn't enough to satisfy my supercharged libido. I slept fitfully, and every time I neared consciousness my greedy little slit demanded more. In the middle of the night I masturbated again, imagining that Ethan was watching me. Connor never watched me. He always felt that if I didn't get off from his cock alone then there was just something wrong with me. He thought it was weak of me to still need my fingers after he'd fucked me. Maybe he was right. My imaginary Ethan, however, was delighted and excited to watch my wet fingers tease my clit through another good orgasm. Even later in the night I was awakened by the gentle throbbing between my legs insisting on still more attention. I tickled it through another cum pretending that I was masturbating while Ethan fucked me. When I finally got up in the morning I was tired from keeping my pussy company all night.

Those are the kind of things that I don't tell Eva.

"I know exactly what kind of girl you are," she said laughing. "You're a slut at heart. A tart in training. A gay divorcee who's going to make up for all of those years when you were married to Connor." She laughed and I tried to look demure and innocent and appalled that she would think such a thing, even if it was true. I don't think I pulled it off.

"Baby, you should get to sleep with a hunky cowboy if you want to. You deserve it after Connor. Are you sure he's going to call you?"

"I guess so. He said he would. He'd better." I wished I was as confident as I sounded. The fact of the matter is that a girl always wonders whether or not she's going to be called the next morning no matter how the evening went. And I was having next-morning doubts right then. What if he'd decided that I was only a bit of fluff good for bar company but not worth pursuing? What if he was really married? What if my kiss hadn't turned him on the way I'd been turned on? What if he was having second thoughts of his own? I used my memory of his hard cock pressing against my tummy while he was kissing me to push my negative thoughts away.

But they came rushing back as I realized something – I'd never given him Eva's phone number. I thought back over the evening and I was sure of it. I was screwed. He had no way to find me. Eva saw the realization come over my face.

"What is it? What's the matter?" she said.

"I didn't give him the phone number," I said. I went immediately from giddy and hopeful to miserable, and it showed in my voice and tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to be brave and not actually break out crying in frustration. Connor had changed our number after I'd moved out and I wasn't listed anywhere as long as I was living with Eva. I'd finally met the cowboy of my dreams and he couldn't find me. What was I going to do? My imagination suddenly flashed a picture of myself hanging out at the Rattlesnake Cantina every night for the rest of my life, growing old and fighting off advances from the pretend cowboys while I waited for Ethan Russell to walk through the door. Depressing is way too mild a word.

"Oh, my." Eva thought for a minute. "Well, you know I don't usually recommend this, but I think you could make an exception this time. Why don't you just call him?"

The hope that Eva might have a solution flared briefly and went out as I ran last night through my head. "Nope. He didn't give me his number either."

"Don't look so crestfallen. We're not giving up yet." Eva's tone was buoyant and I borrowed some strength from it. Like I said, she's the best friend a girl could ever have. 

"I've got a computer and I know how to use it!" She walked over to her desk, sat down and started typing industriously. I stood behind her and put on my glasses so that I could look at the computer screen over her shoulder as she clicked on the white pages.

"What did you say his last name was?" she asked.

Like I'd ever forget. "Russell. Ethan Russell."

Eva typed it into the box and hit the enter key. The machine said, 'Sorry, no matches were found.' That was me. No matches. I felt even worse than I had before.

"Don't worry. That probably just means he's unlisted. Let's Google him and see what happens." Good ol' Eva – I wouldn't have thought of that in a million years. This time we were luckier, if you want to call it that. 'Ethan Russell' returned over 300,000 hits. My heart sank.

Eva narrowed the search to Colorado but still got 27,000 hits, all of which had and Ethan and a Russell, but no Ethan Russell. She narrowed the search further by putting his name in quotes, which reduced the hits to 114. We painstakingly went through each link, but they were all for wrong. Wrong age, wrong state, wrong era, wrong picture. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I was beyond discouraged. What was I going to do?

"Well that sucks," I said. I thought I was being pretty cool about it. I wasn't screaming anyway.

"Hang on," Eva said. "I have another idea."

Eva linked her way to a site that displayed public records. This time we got lucky. When she punched in 'Ethan Russell' and Colorado there were only a handful of hits. But in order to access them you had to pay $7.95.

"Do you want to do it?" she asked. At least I think that's what she said. I was already in my room getting a charge card out of my purse and it was hard to hear her.

I was running back to her waving my plastic money when the phone rang. Dammit. I had more important things to do than talk on the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Miss Shelley?" Ohmigod. It was him. "This is Ethan Russell. From the Rattlesnake? Last night?"

God help me, I liked how he sounded a little unsure of himself. He was so different from the confident man who had pulled my hair and kissed me until my knees went weak. It made me feel sexy and wonderful that talking to me could erode his calm like that.

"Hi," I said brightly. I had gone over what I was going to say when he called a hundred times since last night – saucy comments that made me look clever and happy that he called. But all of my carefully constructed dialogue flew out the window as my pussy resumed screaming at me that she wanted Ethan's cock.

"Shut up," I whispered to my crotch.

"What?" said Ethan. "I didn't catch that."

"Nothing," I said. "I'm glad you called." I was practically purring into the phone but I didn't care. I wanted to be cool, but curiosity claimed my tongue. "But how'd you get my number?"

He laughed. "Yeah, well I realized I hadn't asked you for it right after we left, which pretty much ruined my theatrical exit. But I went to school at CSU, and I have a friend who went there with me. He works in the computer department now. I figured he'd have access to the student database and he did. I owe him a six-pack. Um, I hope you don't mind?" He sounded embarrassed that he'd gone to such trouble, but I was more than delighted. All of that work to find me when he could have just let me go meant that I hadn't imagined our connection.

"No, I don't mind," I said shyly, waving to Eva to try to get her to keep quiet. I felt like a silly junior high school girl with a crush on the boy who's finally called, and not at all like a divorced woman with a libido that drove her to look for cowboys in country and western bars.

"I thought, you know, maybe if you're free, you'd like to have dinner with me tonight? I have a friend that owns a little restaurant up in the mountains. It'd be a long drive, but we'd have a chance to talk."

"That sounds like fun," I said. I was proud of how cool my voice sounded. "I'd love to. But I need to know what to wear. A girl doesn't like to be overdressed. Is cowgirl OK, or is that just for real buckle bunnies?" I figured that even if he wasn't a real cowboy there had to be a reason I found him in a country bar. And I sure as hell wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to pander to his tastes if it would get me into his pants. Stockings? A pantsuit? A dress? I'd wear anything he wanted.

Ethan chuckled. I had totally forgotten how that sound drove straight between my legs. It was like a little sonic vibrator reaching through the phone line and touching my most sensitive spot. A delicious shiver radiated from between my legs.

"Cowgirl is OK. I like cowgirl," he said, without a trace of irony.

We talked for a few more minutes, and he made a joke about taking me for a real ride this time instead of a mechanical bull ride. The dirty insinuation made my pussy happy, and I knew I was going to have a long afternoon waiting for him to show up. I made him give me his phone number in trade for my address.

"I'll pick you up at seven. Goodbye, Shelley," he said.

"Bye." I hung up the phone and didn't even try to hide the grin on my face. I turned to Eva, who was waiting impatiently for me to tell her what we'd said.

"That was Ethan," I said, trying not to sound too gleeful but failing miserably and grinning too much to contain my emotions anyway. "He's taking me to dinner tonight!" Eva squealed and grabbed my hands. We bounced around the living room together giggling like schoolgirls. Like I said, she's the best friend ever.

I had the whole afternoon to get ready, but somehow it didn't seem like it would be enough time. I hit the books for a couple of hours, masturbated with my favorite vibrator and then took a nap so I could stay up late. Then I got up, ready to get ready. 

So he liked cowgirls? That was good. I could do cowgirl. That was why I'd mentioned it. After all, I wasn't the only one who had been hanging out in a country bar last night. Maybe Ethan had a thing for girls in boots, and I wasn't above pressing every advantage I could find if it meant I could get laid.

I started with my favorite flirty shirt. It was dusky brown with horses printed on the front and sexy spaghetti straps. I put on my short denim skirt, my wide belt with the western buckle and the bright red pair of cowboy boots that I'd bought at Shepler's a couple of years ago. My legs were brown enough from horse riding that I didn't need any stockings. I brushed my hair, put on my makeup and topped it all off with my lucky horseshoe earrings.

I looked at myself in the mirror and I had to smile at what I'd put together. An all American cowgirl – flirty, fun and pretty damn sexy, too.

I went out of my bedroom to model myself for Eva. I stopped in front of her and turned in a circle. "So? What do you think?"

Eva laughed and said, "You look fantastic. He isn't gonna know what hit him." I knew that I'd been compliment fishing, but sometimes you need a little extra reinforcement even if you have to ask for it.

I was nervous waiting for Ethan to show up. I paced around the room and sat on the sofa and paced some more. I remembered what it was like to be sixteen again, waiting for my date to come to the door so that he could run the gauntlet of my parents. When the doorbell rang Eva beat me to it. She opened the door and brought him in.

As soon as I saw him my legs got tingly and my pussy felt empty in spite of the all night ravishing that I had given it. I was right back in the parking lot, gushy and needy and ready for a good screwing. He was even better than I had remembered. Lanky and lean, with his jeans held up by a big western belt buckle with a bucking bronco on the front. He was wearing boots and a cowboy shirt, and holding a Stetson in his hands - a perfect hunk of western studliness. I wondered if Eva would care if I just dragged him off to my bedroom, ripped his clothes off and fucked him senseless. Probably not.

Ethan whistled appreciatively at me, his dark gold eyes sparkling in laughter. I spun around so that my skirt flared out, secretly hoping that it would ride high enough that he'd get a good look at my legs. "OK?" I said. He laughed and said, "You make a fine buckle bunny."

I laughed and slapped his arm, one of those girly-girl slaps that pretends dismay but is actually all about ownership. I noticed how Eva was looking at him and I didn't want her getting any ideas.

"I told you I'm not a buckle bunny."

Ethan and Eva smiled at each other conspiratorially, apparently sharing the secret of my true nature. Then they chuckled together at the absurdity of my denial.

"Well, I'm not," I said, as indignantly as I could, but I could feel a little smile on my lips betraying my words.

We made some small talk in the doorway and then Ethan said that we'd better get going. As we walked out Eva opened her eyes wide and mouthed 'Wow' at me behind his back. I had to agree. Wow, indeed.

Ethan led us to his truck, which was a bright shiny red and obviously brand new. It was the biggest pickup that I'd ever seen and I knew that it had cost him a pretty penny. It got even bigger as we neared it, and I wondered where he kept the stepladder that I was going to need to get into it. I made some comment about how cool his truck was because I know that men are proud of their cars. Secretly I was wondering if there was enough room in the front seat for me to lay on my tummy while I gave him a blowjob on the way to the restaurant.

Ethan tried to stop me as I opened the door, but he was too late. Almost before I had the door opened a canine blur burst out of the cab and started running in frenzied circles around the yard. I laughed in surprise at the happy dog, which I could now see was a German Shepard.

"Sorry about that," Ethan said. "His name's Rumball. I hope you don't mind. I was going to tell you but I forgot. He likes to come along when I go out."  Rumball was still chasing an imaginary dog track rabbit in circles around the yard.

"Oh," I said. "Poor baby. Of course he wants to get out!"

I didn't say anything, but I was tickled that Ethan had a dog and that he thought enough of him to want to bring him along. It confirmed my appraisal of him, that he was the kind of man that I could really love. Dog lovers should stick with dog lovers, I always say. And a man who would bring a dog on a first date was definitely my kind of guy. 

Ethan whistled a low short signal that caused Rumball to immediately stop and run over to sit panting at his master's feet. Ethan reached down and scratched affectionately behind his ears, which the dog accepted as his due. "Rumball, meet Miss Shelley. Miss Shelley, this is Rumball."

Rumball's tongue lolled from his mouth and he closed his eyes in mute pleasure while I rubbed his head.

"Pleased to meet you, Rumball." I said. "You are a pretty dog. Gosh, I wish Midori was this obedient when she meets somebody new."

"You have a dog, too?"

"Oh, yes. Her name's Midori, and she's the sweetest girl. She's a pretty husky with bright blue eyes, and she's the love of my life. But my ex fought me for her just to be nasty and so I only get to have her every other week." 

I made a moue to let Ethan know how unhappy I was about the situation, but which didn't which do nearly enough to show how strong my feelings for Midori were. She was my best source of constant affection, there through all of the crushes, infatuations and marriages. She kept me company when I was sad and shared my joy when I wasn't. Although Connor liked her too, I never thought that he cared for her nearly as much as I did. It was just one of the indignities my divorce caused that I didn't have her at my side all of the time any more. I missed her terribly when she was with Connor.

"Well, that's downright criminal," Ethan said. "I know it's not the same, but I'm sure that Rumball will be happy to act as a stand-in when Midori isn't around. See? He likes you."

Rumball grinned at me.

Ethan bent down and petted Rumball and scratched behind his ears. "You want to meet Midori, don't you? Maybe if you're lucky you can get a kiss from her." He put his mouth near Rumball's ear and pretended to whisper a secret to his dog. "If it's anywhere near as good as the one Shelley gave me you'll never wanna give her up."

The implication sent a warm tingle through me. He didn't want to give me up? My kisses made him think that?  I finally allowed myself a teensy realistic hope that I'd get luckier than I had last night. My pussy, of course, took that sliver of hope and amplified it into an imminent fucking, leaking screw-me drops into my panties.

"Time to go," Ethan said. He stood up and motioned to the truck and Rumball obediently jumped inside and got behind the seat. It turned out that I didn't really need a stepladder, but it was only because Ethan put out his hand and helped me up onto the running board. Gallantly he held the door open, waiting for me to get in so that he could shut it. 

I can only plead 'dripping pussy,' because I'm normally not so forward. Really. In spite of my oversexed imagination I can usually manage to at least act innocent.

I bent over at the waist and leaned into the truck, pretending that all I wanted was to pet Rumball and make sure that he was settled. Of course, what I was really doing was giving Ethan a really close eye-level view of my butt. With me standing on the running board and bending over, my ass was in the perfect position for him to fuck me with his eyes while I pretended not to notice and petted his dog. God, I like to be watched, even if I'm not doing anything. It was all I could do to keep from rubbing my legs together to smear the wetness around. Even without the rubbing my slit responded, and I could feel my panties getting soaked. Time to go, I thought – if he saw juice that leaked from my pussy running down my leg I'd probably die of embarrassment. Quickly I climbed in, wiggling my ass around for him a little more than was really necessary.

Ethan shut the door and gave me a knowing smile through the window before he walked around the truck. I giggled at my brazen tease. God, how did he get me to do such things, anyhow? I could feel the blush rising to my cheeks, and I promised to try and do better. At least, until after dinner.

But it wasn't a promise that I was able to keep. Not very well, anyway. Oh I didn't do anything; it was more of the mental promise that was broken as my pussy kept forcing lusty thoughts into my head.

I needed something to derail my racing thoughts, something that wasn't about sex. There was a large pair of black and white fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror by a long strip of leather. I tapped them idly with my fingers, causing them to sway back and forth while I tried to come up with something cute and innocent to say.  "Hey!" Ethan said indignantly. "Don't you know better than to tickle a man's fuzzy dice?" We both broke out laughing. I was happy because he had once again confirmed that he had a dirty mind like mine. I relaxed in my seat and pondered ways to get him to unleash it for me while we drove up into the mountains.




Rattlesnake Cantina Girl Ch. 02



I was only able to keep a part of my mind on our conversation, and we had lots of fun talking. He thought about the things I said instead of dismissing them or not really paying attention, and he gave me lots of awesome encouragement for having the guts to leave my husband and go back to school. And he told stories. Good stories from his childhood and his times at college. I really love a man who can tell me stories and doesn't just sit there listening to me carry the conversational ball. It made me feel close to him in a way that my pussy would never understand.

But every time I looked over at him I wanted to drop my head in his lap and give him a really good blowjob. It wasn't fair that I couldn't, I thought. Isn't that what all men dream of, a good blowjob while they're driving? It had been far too long since I'd felt a cock in my mouth. Besides, I was dying to see it. I could tell it was big, I just couldn't tell how big through those damned jeans. 

I suddenly realized that Ethan wasn't talking any more. I looked at his face and realized that he'd been watching me look at his crotch. He looked down at his lap, pretending surprise. "What are you looking at?" he said.

I guess I was too embarrassed at being caught to choose my word carefully enough, and I hastily took an interest in the gorgeous rocks over the river. "Nothing."

"That's not nothing," he said, pretending to act all insulted. His voice took on a pleading tone. "Rumball, tell her it's not nothing." Rumball obediently barked and we both broke out laughing. But Ethan wasn't blushing like I was.

Gosh, everything this man did made me feel closer to him. I felt the blood rushing to my pussy, carrying extra heat and fuel to a fire that didn't really need it. I realized that I'd been sitting there for most of the drive with my knees apart, a silent plea from my slit for Ethan's attention, his cock. It wouldn't do at all to ooze so much girl juice that it soaked through my panties and skirt and found its way onto Ethan's leather seats. I may not know much, but I know that men don't like girl cum spots on their new leather truck seats. I giggled to myself at the image of him getting mad at me over cum spots, and I shut my legs to try and stem the trickle.

I sneaked another peak at Ethan, and this time I managed to avoid looking at his lap. His hand was resting on the steering wheel while he casually drove down the scenic road. He was so masculine, so confident of himself. I couldn't stop smiling. My pussy obviously wanted him – no surprise there. It wanted just about any guy who was cute and halfway intelligent. The surprise was that my mind did too. He fit so well into my preconceived notion of the kind of man I'd wanted for years that I had no hope at all of resisting.

The trouble was that in my B.C. days I had a problem becoming obsessed with boys, and I wasn't sure that I had put that problem behind me. It was a danger I had learned to live with, if not avoid all of the time. It seemed like every new beau had something different to offer, something that only he had that would satisfy one of my multitudinous cravings. I caromed from crisis to crisis, from boy to boy, never catching the one who met all of my needs and not all sure that I'd even recognize him even if I did. 

I didn't have sex with them all, not even close. Pretty often my infatuations only lasted through a date or two, and sometimes even less. My imagination could take a snippet of some guy I'd just met and construct a whole new lover for me, using the things that attracted me to him and adding the necessary finishing touches to create the perfect man to fuck me while I played with myself. But occasionally my crushes would lead me to a new bed, smiling and happy that someone new wanted me, certain that this time the possibility for true love was knocking on the door. The cravings of my pussy kept rushing me into relationships before my heart and mind were ready. And sometimes I'd let boys into my pants without making sure that they could really love me first. It was something I had learned to watch out for, a temptation that had less to do with the constant pleadings of my pussy than the weakness of my character.

I had thought it was all behind me when I met the man who would become my husband.

At first I was just smitten with him like I had been with so many others. But Connor stood out from the crowd. He was different, better. His strength and ability to take care of me were seductive in a way that none of my other boy-toys had ever matched. Connor was so strong and capable that I had overlooked things that I shouldn't have. He enjoyed being in charge, taking care of me and us. It seemed like he was the solution to all of my longings. He was so infatuated with me and it was a perfect match – he needed someone to care for and I needed someone to keep me safe. We were in love and everything else was going to be all right.

The problem with our marriage was that it never felt personal. After a year or so I felt like I could have been replaced by any girl my age. As far as Connor went, as long as he had a wife he was happy. How she felt and what she wanted became almost irrelevant to him as time went by. He wasn't going to waste his time having a conversation with me. He wasn't going to get up off the sofa to spend time with me, or bother to plan an evening out. Connor told me that he loved me, but he never did understand that he wasn't giving me enough of himself to make me happy. 

But for me the bedroom was the real problem. The eagerness with which he took me when we were first married slowly vanished, and there was nothing else to take its place. Connor's bedroom behavior, which was never exactly exciting, became self serving rather than selfless. And the less Connor had to give me, the more I wanted. I wanted more abandon, more wildness. I wanted him to beg to watch me play with myself. I wanted him to tie me up, spank me and take me over my crying protests. I wanted him ask me to dress up like a schoolgirl in pigtails and a plaid skirt so he could give me my first lesson in sex.

But Connor never wanted any of those things. And whenever I suggested them I could see the distaste on his face. My husband had no desire to spice up our lovemaking, no matter how much I pleaded or cajoled. His excuses were wan and insubstantial, and through their transparency I could see his growing impatience with a wife he didn't understand. I didn't quite understand it myself. I only knew that the gaping hole my heart and pussy were carving into me weren't going to be filled by Connor. 

And here I was A.D., driving off with a new man, my pussy screaming for attention while I wondered if my tendency to become infatuated too soon had returned from the sabbatical my marriage had forced on it. I was becoming obsessed with the handsome cowboy beside me, a silly schoolgirl with her first crush. Any minute now I was going to grab my diary and start writing Mrs. Shelley Russell over and over to see how it looked. But was it real this time, or were the cravings between my legs leading me astray again?

Ethan drove us up to the Poudre River Canyon, a picturesque drive along a gently winding road that parallels the Poudre River. The evening was warm and the air was clear and bright. With the windows down we could smell the water and the fragrant summer greenery. Sometimes I could see the river flowing beside us, and other times I could hear it purling and burbling just out of sight as we drove along, hidden by the green trees and bushes that grew in profusion along the bottom of the canyon. The scenery was the perfect complement to my mood, and my hopes for romance. 

My reverie was broken when Ethan pulled over and parked at a turnaround in the road. He said, "This is where Rumball gets out."

I looked behind the seat, and sure enough the dog seemed to know where we were – his tail was wagging and he nosed Ethan's door anxiously.

"You're just going to let him out at the side of the road?" I asked.

"Oh, he knows where he is. Our place is just over the top of the rise, there." Ethan popped his door open and Rumball jumped out and bounded up the hill without a backward glance, a canine with a purpose.

"I thought he was going with us," I said, pouting.

Ethan laughed. "To a restaurant? As much as Mac likes him, there are health regulations, you know." He pulled his door shut and pulled the truck back onto the road.

"Bye, Rumball," I said to his back as he scrambled up the side of the canyon.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll get to see you again," Ethan said.

"And Midori, too," I said.

"Yep. Definitely Midori. And Lassie and Rin-Tin-Tin and Toto, too, if he wants too. But I think he's holding out for Midori. Did you see his eyes light up when you talked about her?"

I laughed, but I didn't tell him I didn't know who Rin-Tin-Tin was. I mean, I was sure he was a famous dog, but he had probably been famous before my time. And I didn't want Ethan thinking we were from different eras or something.

Another fifteen minutes of driving up the canyon Ethan pulled into a small restaurant that was backed up against the river. Mac's Steak House was a nestled on the side of the road in a little copse of trees. It was possibly the cutest restaurant I'd ever seen, a charming little place that could easily have been a bed-and-breakfast, perfect for romantic getaways.

The inside was as quaint as the outside, with sort of a western steak house meets Italian decor. There weren't a lot of tables and the place was almost full with couples and a smattering of families. 

Mac himself greeted Ethan like an old friend. "Ethan! Long time no see. I'm glad you called ahead, because we got busy tonight. You're table's right over here." Talking merrily about the menu and his wife he led us to a table with a checkered tablecloth nestled in a corner. I was tickled that Ethan had made a reservation. That was the kind of planning ahead that I could never coax Connor into doing for me. I may have been silly for thinking this way, but I interpreted it to mean that I was in Ethan's thoughts even when I wasn't in his presence.

My cowboy pulled out the chair for me and then took the seat next to mine, saying, "I hope you don't mind if I want to sit close to you?"

I giggled. Of course not! I patted the chair next to me, remembering how we'd met last night. "Put 'er there, cowboy," I said.

Maybe I could drop my fork in his lap and reach down to grab it and 'accidentally' fondle him. I was at my old tricks – more uninhibited in my imagination than I could ever be for real.

Ethan ordered beer just like he had last night. I decided to go for something a little girly and ordered a mudslide – Bailey's with chocolate and whipped cream. Booze, chocolate, a cozy restaurant and the man of my dreams looking in my eyes. I was in heaven.

"Do you ever drink anything besides beer?" I asked while we waited for the drinks to arrive.

"It's better than a frou-frou drink like a Mudslide. Besides, beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy," he said loftily.

I laughed. "Sounds like an excuse to drink dreamed up by someone who'd had a few too many."

He chuckled and my wet slit vibrated in sympathy. "No. That was written by Ben Franklin, the only person to sign all four founding documents of our country."

"OK, OK," I said, giggling. "I already apologized for testing you last night. You're smart, OK? I was just wondering if you always drink beer."

"Yep, that's me. Beer drinker, hell raiser, dirty old man."

A girl could only hope, I thought to myself. Actually I thought it was kind of cute, a cowboy and his beer, but I wasn't about to tell him that. 

The drinks came and we talked. Ethan looked in my eyes and even held my hand a little bit. I loved the focus of his attention, the certainty that all of it was for me. As for myself, I wasn't paying enough attention, at least not to my drink.

"You've got some....," Ethan said, motioning to a spot at the corner of his mouth. I realized that I'd gotten some whipped cream on my mouth and I picked up my napkin to wipe it away. But before I got it to my mouth Ethan gently caught my wrist and stopped me.

"Allow me," he said. Ethan leaned forward and kissed the whipped cream away. I tried to hold still and resist the impulse to turn and catch his lips with mine. It was hard. Somehow this was even more intimate than our kisses last night, the kind of pampering that only a boy and girl who were already lovers would indulge. I blushed and managed to whisper, "Thank you."

I wanted it to happen again, to feel his lips on mine, the heat of our romance growing under the rich mulch of his teasing kisses. I tried to think up a way to get more whipped cream on my face, but I came up empty. 

We laughed at Mac's insistence that we would never eat a better steak in our lives when he brought them to our table. I was reaching for my fork when Ethan stayed my hand so the he could give me a quick kiss, this time right on my lips. I was floating on the attention, the potent promise of more to come. My pussy liked it too.

It turned out that Mac was right - the steaks were so tender that all you had to do was threaten them with a fork and they'd fall apart.

"Gosh, this is delicious," I said.

"Well, it helps to have access to the best beef," Ethan said. "Mac's been here for years, and he gets his meat-on-the-hoof straight from some of the nearby ranchers." 

As we started to eat I realized that I felt more comfortable with this man than I'd ever felt with any other. Well, comfortable except for my pussy, which regularly sent little shivers through me so that I wouldn't forget what she wanted. I needed to distract her, and so I asked Ethan to tell me an embarrassing story.

"What?"

"A story. Something that happened to you that you're embarrassed about now."

Ethan gave me a stern look. "And what makes you think you're entitled to that, Miss Shelley?"

I giggled. "I'm not asking for Watergate, here. I don't know what I'm looking for. Maybe something that happened when you were little?"

Ethan thought for a minute and then started talking, his voice that of a natural born storyteller. I was in heaven listening to him and looking at him while I ate my delicious steak, and I wanted to listen to him tell stories forever. Ethan told me about going fishing with his dad when he was little. His father had been trying to catch a big salmon on their annual vacation to the Green River unsuccessfully for years. One year Ethan had been the one who caught a seven pounder just around the bend from where his father was fishing.

"I really wanted for my dad to be the one to catch it. I was about eight and I'd just figured out that my dad had dreams of his own, things he wanted from life that had nothing at all to do with me. I was at that age where you begin to realize that just being a grown up doesn't get you everything you want after all."

Suddenly Ethan stopped talking in the middle of his story and leaned over to give me a kiss, as if the urge was so strong that he couldn't help himself. "Sorry," he said as he leaned back and carved a bite from his steak. "You're just so damned cute I couldn't help myself. I needed your kiss," he said matter-of-factly, as if I was his water glass and he'd taken a sip from me so that he could keep on talking. He didn't notice how that kiss made me swoon, and he went on talking.

"Anyway, I thought I'd sneak into the water downstream from Dad's line and hook my fish to it while he wasn't looking, so he could catch his salmon." 

I giggled at the impossibility of an eight year old trying to do something like that for his father, and my heart went all squishy with how thoughtful the man in front of me was.

Ethan raised his eyebrow at my laugh, pretending that he couldn't understand why I wasn't taking his story seriously.

"I took the salmon in my hand and tried very hard to wade out to his line when he wasn't looking, but it was harder than I though it would be. He was looking around the river while he fished, and I knew that sooner or later he'd see me. I finally decided that there was no way I could do it by wading. So I took a deep breath and ducked under the water and tried to swim in the direction of his line. Of course I ran out of air and burst to the surface with a huge splash. Suddenly there I was, standing in the water, dripping wet and holding a huge dead salmon in my arms."

"Oh, my," I said, laughing so hard it brought tears to my eyes.

"Yep. I was all embarrassed, and I had to fess up. He laughed so hard I thought he was going to make himself sick." Ethan took a bite of his steak. "To this day I don't know which of us was more embarrassed – me for trying to fool Dad or him for not catching the fish. To his credit, he didn't tell a soul about it for years until I was all grown up. Of course, it's one of his favorite stories, now."

"He sounds like a swell guy."

"Yeah, Dad's pretty cool."

He leaned over and gave me another quick kiss on the lips. It was almost too much stimulation – the romance of the evening, a cowboy telling me stories, his unswerving attention, the delicious steak, little kisses with his masculine lips.

As the evening went on the kisses kept coming, interspersed with laughter and conversation. Their effect was cumulative, each one adding to the heat, fueling my fire. It was a gradual build, unlike the roller coaster ride of last night in the bar. But the destination was the same – a soppy pussy and a needy Shelley.

I tried to ignore the heat he was causing. – I felt like if I'd had a raw steak I could put it between my legs and grill it right there, and I was afraid that I was going to leave a spot in Mac's chair. But I loved every minute of it.

Our dinner was long and sensual, perfectly seasoned with intimate conversation and occasional dirty double entendres. I was amazed at my newfound ability to balance my ready horniness with the other rewards of a quiet night out with a hot cowboy. 

"Compliments of the house," Mac said, putting a bowl of succulent strawberries and a little fondue pot of melted white chocolate on the table in front of us.

"You don't have to do that," Ethan said to Mac.

"I insist. Enjoy," Mac said, smiling at me. Then he bustled back towards the kitchen.

"That was nice," I said.

"Yep. Mac's a great guy." 

Looking at the strawberries I got so excited I could hardly stand it; the memory of a dirty story I'd read online swirled dangerously with the reality before me. The story was about a man who'd taken his sister to a restaurant, cuffed her hands together under the table and then fed her strawberries before he fucked her silly. It had gotten me so hot I'd had to take off my jeans and masturbate right then and there in front of my computer.

I knew that wouldn't happen here, though. Ethan may have been a rootin' tootin' cowboy, but he had no reason to have a pair of handcuffs with him. Unless maybe he was a sheriff. 

I tried to picture him with a six-gun and a badge, and the thought made me giggle. Ethan looked at me questioningly while he searched through the bowl for the prettiest strawberry. He ceremoniously dipped it in the chocolate, leaned towards me and lifted it to my mouth. 

"There you go, Miss Shelley," he said with a big smile on his face. "Just what a little buckle bunny needs – a little something sweet to suck on." Oh, this dirty old cowboy knew just exactly what thoughts were running through my mind, and I loved him for it.

I felt giddy and lost and unbelievably happy. I tried not to look like I was pursing my lips around the end of his cock, but I failed miserably. I closed my eyes and gave in to my imagination, probing with my tongue for the little slit on the end, sucking gently with pursed lips, letting the warm liquid drip run down my chin. It was like he was cumming in my mouth, I could feel it. I was unceremoniously yanked back to the restaurant by Ethan's voice admonishing me.




Rattlesnake Cantina Girl Ch. 02



"Umm, Miss Shelley? I do believe that you've had enough," he said, with a twinkle in his eye. I blushed and grabbed my napkin to wipe my mouth clean.

"Can I help it if I like a good strawberry?" I asked, matching his twinkle with one of my own. Silent promises made, we ate the rest of our dessert without help from each other.

We said our goodbyes to Mac, and I thanked him for the wonderful meal, hoping that he could tell how serious I was when I complimented him. I'd never had a more delicious steak. I didn't trust myself to mention the strawberries and chocolate, because I wasn't sure I could do it without opening a window into my lewd heart that was only there for Ethan. Mac's smile was genuine, and I knew that with or without Ethan, I'd be coming back.

Since we'd been inside the sun had set, but the day's warmth still lingered in the air. Ethan had parked at the farthest edge of the little parking lot, right by the babbling river. We walked there slowly arm in arm, and I stretched my pace so that our steps would match. The only lights around were the few outside of Mac's, and this far from civilization they did nothing to dim the millions of stars. They shone brightly, their light warm and romantic. A sibilant whisper from the trees that lined the river blew to us on a gentle breeze, which also carried to our ears sounds of the far away kitchen shutting down.

When we got to his big red truck, Ethan gallantly opened the door for me. Standing together in the open door, he took me in his arms. But this was different from last night. This time there was no hesitation, no gentlemanly cowboy restraint. It was as if he'd been holding himself in for too long and the dam had broken so suddenly and without premonition that he had no choice but to flow with the waves rushing over him. He had to have me. Now. Hard. Ethan kissed me fiercely, hungrily. I savored the rush of having my impressions of his lust-in-check verified. The greed flowing from his lips confirmed that the man wrapped in the delicious cowboy gear had the same hungers as I did buried deep inside him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, as much to hold me up on my rubbery legs as to hold him close. My nipples were almost painfully erect, rubbing against Ethan and sending unneeded fuck-me-now signals to my pussy.

While we kissed his hands went exploring, touching me almost everywhere. As a sign of his barely extant gentlemanly restraint he didn't try to reach to the spot between my legs, in spite of the fact that my pussy was pleading for his touch. I knew he feared that it was too soon, too bold. He simply couldn't tell how badly I wanted him to or surely he would have. 

Suddenly Ethan broke our kiss, gasping for air as if I'd stolen it all from him. Without a pause he tightened his grip on my waist, turned and lifted me up to sit on the seat of his truck, with my legs hanging over the edge, spread just far enough for him to stand between them. Sitting inside the truck my head was a little higher than his was, and his Stetson was in my way. Cowboy clothing or not, if it was going to interfere with my claiming a kiss it had to go. I giggled in heady anticipation as I took Ethan's hat off and threw it back into the truck.

I ran my fingers through his hair. It was soft and thick, and I was jealous. I bet he didn't spend beaucoup bucks on conditioners and rinses and hairdressers, and brush it one hundred times before he went to bed every night. I mean, what self-respecting cowboy would do that?

I leaned forward to kiss him, giving in to the urge to cradle his face and soft hair in my hands while our lips spoke silent promises of lust and love. But before I could he shoved me hard in the chest, causing me to fall back on the seat.

Ethan deliberately put his knee on the seat between my thighs and crawled into the truck on top of me. I thought he was giving in to his impulse, to the raw stallion inside of him. He exuded confidence that he could do whatever he wanted to me, which made me want to let him.

I settled comfortably on the seat so he could lay on top of me and we could continue our steamy kissing, but instead he reached above me to flick off the dome light and untie the fuzzy dice from the mirror.

Before I even knew what was happening he had grabbed my wrists in one hand and quickly tied them together with the leather strip from the dice. He yanked my hands up over my head and looped a die around the steering wheel, tying me up quicker than a dogie at a calf-roping contest.

I gasped from both his presumption and my need, which presented itself as a shudder of pleasure between my legs.

Ethan crawled back outside the truck between my legs, pausing only to kiss me roughly and pinch my nipples hard enough to hurt. I gasped at the pain and Ethan's audacity, but I loved feeling that he'd just take whatever he wanted from me. I managed to lift my head so I could look down to see him standing between my spread knees. The starlight behind him robbed him of his features, and I felt a delicious fear mixed with lust. I twisted and wiggled against my bonds, but the leather strip was too tight and struggling caused it to bite into my wrists. I couldn't move.

Looking back I think it was just my imagination trying to goose the situation. I wanted to be bound, to be taken forcefully by a man who wanted me so badly he didn't have time for the usual bedroom niceties. But if I were to just lay there and take it then it would be as if I'd given my consent, which altogether flew in the face of the need for restraining ropes.

And so I fought, trying to loosen the bonds, trying to wiggle my way free even though I felt more alive and sexy than I ever had before.

Ethan ignored my silent protestations and reached up under my denim skirt with both his hands. I bucked and twisted, but it hardly slowed him at all. After a bit of searching he found the top edge of my panties and tugged them down my legs. I didn't think he was going to be able to get them off over my cowboy boots, but elastic was on his side and I was quickly de-pantied.

He roamed his hands up and down my body, feeling my tummy, my breasts, running his hands up the insides of my bare thighs, getting close but never quite touching my dripping center. He was driving me mad.

I wriggled against my bonds. I wanted to hold him, to feel his swelling cock with my hands, to run my fingers through his hair and feel the corded muscles in his arms. I knew that this was unfair to my true self, to the girl inside who'd been dreaming of being bound by her lover. But I couldn't help it. I struggled and fought and it made me wetter.

Ethan put his hand on my chest between my breasts, pinning me firmly to the seat while he slowly lifted my skirt.

His voice was calm and patient, as if he was a horse whisperer trying to soothe a skittish filly. "Now Miss Shelley, I've been undressing you in my mind all night long, and I ain't waitin' no more. Now you just calm yourself down. You've been teasing me too long, and you're going to get what's coming to you."

With those words he lowered his head between my legs and licked my clit.

I spasmed into his mouth, not actually cumming but reeling from the sensation of his lips on my pussy just as if I had. The ropes, the warm night, the suddenness of Ethan's surrender all stole any sense that I might have had, and I resigned myself to heaven. I lifted my legs and spread them so he could have better access while he licked every part of me.

Ethan's cheeks had a trace of stubble on them that scratched the insides of my thighs, adding additional impetus to the pain of the leather bonds, the discomfort of the truck seat, the sudden feeling that my soft clothes were rough and coarse. He lapped me deliberately, moving his tongue around to taste every tidbit that I was offering.

My arms were still stretched over my head, and it hurt. I wriggled against the leather around my wrists while I contrarily bucked myself into Ethan's greedy lips. The struggle was part of the pleasure, part of the years of dreaming come true. So many of my unfilled needs coalesced into this one moment of consummation. I finally had my cowboy, and he wanted me to cum in his mouth. I felt extraordinarily wet and soft and feminine, and I surrendered to the wave rushing towards me. 

Suddenly Ethan lifted his head, his warm breath delightfully cooling my hot wet pussy.

He had to catch a breath before he could gasp out what he wanted. "I'll untie you. Shelley. But if I do, you have to finish yourself into my mouth."

I swear, I almost came right then. How the hell did he know I'd always wanted to be watched? I couldn't wait for my voice to come back, so I just nodded frantically. 

Ethan crawled back on top of me, pausing to kiss me with lips that tasted of tantalizing wet pussy. He untied my right hand, leaving my left hand stretched above me and still tied to the steering wheel. I was so ready to cum that I didn't even care that I was only going to get to have one hand to finish. I think I even got my fingers between my legs before Ethan got himself back into position, his face inches from my wet crotch.

When my fingers touched my pussy it twitched gratefully, no doubt relieved that Ethan's momentary absence hadn't presaged an end to the evening's fun. God, there was so much goo there. I smeared it around and, just for Ethan, I stuck two fingers inside myself as far as I could, pumping slowly and letting him watch.

I looked down between my legs and saw him staring at my pussy, my fingers. Even in the soft starlight I could see the hunger in his eyes, the delight he took in watching while I rubbed my clit in quick little circles. Every once in a while he'd wetly lick the backs of my slippery fingers and dripping hole while I fondled myself. He'd nibble the insides of my thighs as if he couldn't bear to not be touching me with his mouth. Then he'd watch me again, his eyes ravenous for the sight of what I was doing. 

Behaving like that he wasn't going to have to wait long to see me cum. At that moment I couldn't have stopped my approaching orgasm if a whole passel of cowboys had been watching.

Quickly my ragged breathing turned deeper and more rhythmic, and the orgasm that had been searching for me all night crept up and attacked.

I moaned and Ethan dove for my clit. I got my fingers out of the way just in time for his mouth to cover my pussy and gently suck me while I came and came and came. I felt as if I'd discovered some sublime secret; the place where his scratchy face met my silky smooth thighs, where my exquisite orgasm fed his gentle sucking, where my lover actually loved me.

It was a hundred years that lasted seventeen seconds.

Slowly the world returned. The stars came out, the fresh air blew over my bare legs, the water splashed noisily on its way to the ocean. Ethan brought me down slowly by licked me between the legs. Slow deliberate licks with long pauses between which eased me down from the high of my orgasm. I wrapped my cowboy boots behind his head and ground my sated pussy against his wet face.

Finally he looked up and grinned at me, his lower face covered in girl goo. His smile revealed that he knew what he'd done to me, how much I'd needed it. Needed him. And of course he looked a little self-satisfied, as men always do when they've pleased a girl.

Ethan reached into the truck and grabbed his hat. He lifted my legs back into the truck and shut the door. My left hand was still tied to the steering wheel, but I didn't feel the need to try to untie myself any more. I sat up in the middle of the seat, combed my hair back out of my face with my fingers and tried to catch my breath.

As Ethan walked around the front of the truck I saw that he had my panties in his hand and was using them to wipe off his face. I chuckled to myself. A man after my own heart, indeed. Looking me in the eye, he took off his hat, put the wet panties inside it, and put it back on.

When he got in the truck beside me I said, "Don't I get those back?"

"Nope," he said, grinning. He gave me a post sex kiss that, in spite of his efforts to clean himself, still tasted of sweet sex.

As he started the car I lay my head back on the seat, tired and thoroughly satisfied. My pussy still hadn't felt his hard cock, but I knew it wouldn't be long. A silent promise had been made when I came in Ethan's mouth, a promise that he would get to cum too. I knew he wouldn't hesitate to claim his turn.

Ethan untied my hand and backed the truck out of the parking spot. The river glistened under the starlight, and the sound of it flowing faded as we got back onto the road and started to drive back to town.

I was glad I was sitting, because the thoughts of the millions of ways Ethan and I would make love were just making me too dizzy to stand. I rested in a mixed state of heady anticipation and euphoria achieved.

"That was awesome," I said. I firmly believe that you should always compliment a good lover, and he'd earned a more heartfelt praise than poor Connor or Ray or any of my other lovers ever had. Ethan took my hand in his and we drove along in companionable silence.

We were more than halfway home when I realized that he'd made no further move on me. I'd had a chance to recharge my battery and my pussy was starting to send out the usual woebegone signals of neglect and abandonment.

As soon as I realized that I was getting horny again, I knew what I wanted – Ethan's hard cock sliding deep into the back of my throat. I'd imagined doing it in his truck the moment I'd seen it, and it was time to collect on my imagination. And I knew there isn't a man alive who doesn't want his girl to give him a blowjob while he's driving. Especially if his girl is naked beneath her skirt and reeking of sex.

I maneuvered my left hand under the steering wheel and between Ethan's legs. Sure enough, he was long and hard. I rubbed the heel of my hand against his jeans, sliding downwards, hopefully pulling his skin taut and making him leak those little pre-cum drops into his underwear.

"Now, now, Miss Shelley," he said, taking my hand away.

"What?" I said innocently, putting it right back. I couldn't tell for sure, but I thought he pressed himself against me that time.

"We're all done with that nonsense for tonight. I'm right sorry that I was so forward."

I couldn't believe my ears. Shit. Was Ethan some flip side of Connor, giving me the adventure and release I craved but uncaring about his own needs? No. That was impossible. It couldn't be. I wouldn't let it be.

I turned my head to whisper in his ear. "Does it feel like I'm complaining?" 

Ethan tried to ignore my hand and dissuade my intentions by pretending that the road needed his full attention and my fingers weren't caressing his cock. We drove along in companionable silence. After a bit I upped the ante by rubbing him harder with deliberate long strokes that left blue jean rash on the heel of my hand.

His cock bucked under my ministrations, and I thanked it for making its thirst known. I knew now that whatever Ethan said, he was being urged along through his life by the cravings between his legs just like I was. I'd found a kindred spirit for me. One for my pussy, too.

He moaned in mute pleasure, and I knew I had him.

It took both hands to unbuckle his belt, to unfasten his jeans and unzip them. All the while Ethan drove along as if it wasn't happening, as if he was all alone in his truck. I didn't care. I knew I could make him cum in my mouth, and I needed to feel his cock inside me. I hate to say it, but right then that was all of my motivation. Not making him feel good, not repaying him for the orgasm he'd given me. It didn't matter how hard I'd cum, I still wanted his cock in my mouth, dripping gooey sperm into me, making me gag and sliding against my lips. As far as I'm concerned it's never really sex unless the cock gets inside me somehow. Somewhere.

There wasn't much room between Ethan's tummy and the hard black plastic of the steering wheel. I had to push and pull his clothing all over before I had enough of his cock free to do what I wanted, and even then his balls were hidden inside his pants. There was just his long thick shaft naked and available for my loving. Ethan twitched in mute pleasure every time my fingers grazed his tummy or his straining cock.

When I got it free it was already all wet, covered in slimy pre-cum that draped from his shaft to his tummy and down inside his shorts. I took his shaft in my hand, feeling its warmth, its wet hunger.

I was going to have to stretch out on the seat to get my lips close to it, but feeling my tummy on the cool leather seat while I sucked Ethan was what I'd wanted from the moment I'd seen his truck. My pussy objected. The little bitch always wanted all the attention, and usually got it. But I had needs of my own, and right then I needed Ethan in my mouth.

I maneuvered myself so that I could lie on my stomach on the seat, my head in his lap and the toes of my boots knocking gently on the passenger window. I stroked him with my hand a few times, and then I lowered my head and sucked him deep into my mouth.

Ethan moaned and jerked, and I thought he was going to cum right away. I think a little squirt of sperm may have spit into my mouth, but everything was so warm and wet that I wasn't sure. I stopped for a second to give him time to recover, so he didn't cum too soon. Then I started blowing him, bobbing my head up and down, letting my lips firmly stroke his warm cock, swallowing the pre-cum that dripped out of him.

I remembered the lessons in giving head that Ray had taught me years ago. I used to use them on Connor, but to him a blowjob was a blowjob, and if he thought I was doing it well he never told me. So this was my first chance since Ray to see if I really was good at it, and I was determined to give Ethan the blowjob of a lifetime.

The trick is to imitate the sensation of being inside a pussy, but to add those little tingles that you can do with your hands and mouth that a pussy just can't do. It's what makes a blowjob more personal than regular fucking, more intense. 

Trying to remember all of my long-ago lessons I started earnestly fucking Ethan with my mouth, sliding him in and out of my soft lips, sucking gently and sporadically. Every once in a while I'd stop and lick him from top to bottom with my tongue or nibble that sensitive spot just under the head.

Meantime I stroked him with my hand, at least as much as I could with the limited room I had. I tried hard not to swallow, letting his pre-cum and my saliva drool over my fingers and his cock, making everything wet and sticky. There was goo everywhere, and not really enough room for me to operate. My left check was always brushing against Ethan's tummy, and every now and again I'd bump the steering wheel with my head.

But I loved every stroke, every wet drop that oozed from his cock. Car sex is always so intense. Even if you're taking your time it feels rushed, as if your desire is simply too strong for you to wait until you can find a comfortable bed and time to take off all your clothes. The leather seat felt cool under my bare legs, and I wished that there was some way to play with my pussy.

The open windows let the scents of the spring night into the truck, sweet fragrances that mixed sensuously with the smell of sex. The road hummed its miles away under the truck, and warm starlight gave just enough illumination for me to watch Ethan's cock grow larger and more excited.

There was one special trick that I'd learned from Ray, one that I used ever since. Every once in a while I'd pull the loose skin on Ethan's shaft down toward his balls, making it taut all the way up to the end. At the same time I kept right on slurping him gently into my mouth. Ray said that that fooled the cock into thinking it was buried as deep inside me as it could be, and on top of the sensation of my wet lips moving up and down his shaft it was just too much for any cock to resist.