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Working with the Girls Ch. 04

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Downstairs I could hear Olga coming out of the bathroom. I think she walked around downstairs for a while before mounting the stairs since it took a longer time than I expected before she came into sight. She’d left her dress downstairs and appeared in just her sandals and satiny green thong. She’d cleaned up her face and tied her long curly hair back behind her head. I however was sitting on the bed stroking my cock back to a steely hardness. When she came into view, she looked at it and said, “Well, I guess I was right about you being a man. ‘Ready to go again so soon?”

“Come over here and I’ll show you.” I growled. She teasingly turned away and moved to the railing and looked over it at the room below. “Are all your heroes cowboys?” she asked, remarking on the way I had decorated the room below with movie stills of Clint Eastwood as Marshall Jed Cooper, John Wayne as John Bernard Books, and Sam Elliott as Conagher. Two of my cowboy hats were hanging on a specially made hat rack with two lever action rifles hanging below. An antique safe (an heirloom that I could never afford) from an ancient Albuquerque bank sat below, but she would never see the interior which was filled with ammunition and my small collection of antique western pistols. One of the “chairs” in that room was my saddle which was on a reinforced mount that allowed it to be sat without a horse beneath it. Hanging from that saddle was my rifle scabbard and a bullwhip. Spying this last item, she asked, “And are you going to use that whip on me?

“No,” I laughed. “It’s for driving cattle.”

“I thought you were a bartender, not a cowboy.”

“Well, I’ve been learning to use that whip on my days off at a friend’s ranch. They have lots of Angus and Hereford cows that I help with.”

“But don’t cowboys use ropes? Where’s your lasso?” She was clearly implying that if I wasn’t going to use the whip on her, then maybe I could use some ropes on her.

“Florida cattlemen are not properly called ‘cowboys’. They’re ‘cow hunters’ or ‘crackers’ and they don’t use lassos. They drive their cattle with the crack of the whip since a looped rope would just land on the scrub brush and the cow would duck under it. This isn’t Texas.”

Her one word answer was quiet and barely audible, “Oh.”

“Didn’t I tell you to come here?” My cock poked up from my lap where I sat on the bed, a product of my working it back to this state and the view of her bare ass with that little green string running up the crack.

She didn’t even turn around. “Since when are you so insistent?”

I was off the bed in an instant. I came up behind her quickly and quietly. Below her line of sight so she wouldn’t catch a flash of movement out of the corner of her eyes, I stopped on my knees behind her with my face level with that delectable ass. Without warning, I dragged her thong by the side strings down her legs until it pulled free from her snatch reluctantly and fell down her legs to lie on her feet. She attempted to turn but I held her legs by the back of her thighs and stopped her. Before she could realize what I had in mind, I pushed my face up and in between her legs.

“Oh my G-G-G-God!” she sputtered as I snaked a tongue out to poke at and pierce her pussy lips. I reached up with my right hand and pushed at her middle back. It forced her to lean forward a little affording me a better angle at her sex.

My other hand continued to hold onto her left leg and my face was shoved up and into the backside of her ass. My nose was buried almost in the rosebud of her asshole, my nose nuzzled her taint, and my lips and tongue fought for access to her pussy. Since I didn’t have a grip on her other leg anymore, she moved it up and stepped out of her panty. It lay there on the floor still looped around her left foot while I ran my hand up and down that leg. She decided not to fight it and grabbed the railing with both hands as I pushed my lower face harder against her quim. When she leaned over far enough, I was able to really push my face into her.

Once her legs were spread far enough apart and she was cooperating nicely, I ran my hands up and down both legs, gently rubbing the backs of her knees, caressing her calves, and holding her ankles like handles. “What are you doing down there? Holy shit, I can barely stand up,” she exclaimed as she rose up on her toes to give me better access to her hole. I pulled back from my work, my face coated in her cunt juice and thinking that the view from where I kneeled was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, and said, “Whatever I want. Lean over, I’m not done.”

She re-assumed the position that gave me greatest access to her and I roughly jammed my face back into her crack. My tongue snaked into her cunt teasing the liquids from it. I reached up with both hands and grabbed a handful of ass on both sides of my face. I pulled her open, exposing all of her. I admired this view for a second until I heard her gasp at the lewdness of it. Then I bağlıca escort really went to town on her. I licked and lapped at the gash, dragged my flattened tongue across the bottom of her hole and up and over her tiny anal opening.

“Oh, no, not that! D-d-don’t,” I heard her say, “Not my ass, please stop.”

In response, I jabbed my pointed tongue back into her pussy hole, let go of her cheeks, and worked two fingers, into her searching for the G-spot. The spongy mound was right where it was supposed to be. As I continued to lap at her, I circled the pleasure button with the two invading fingers and alternately stroked her clit with the other hand. Her breathing became labored and when she bent her knees, it forced my face and hands further into her. If she continued to weaken at this rate, I would soon be holding her up by her crotch. The sounds she was making indicated that this was a distinct possibility.

The lubrication coming from her cunt was increasing and I thought that soon she would be coming. The fingers inside her began a rhythmic pumping up and down across her spot. With each down stroke, she gasped; with each push back in, I squeezed a little more liquid from her sheath. My tongue rimmed the opening, capturing all the precious drops to be had.

She howled and moaned making unearthly noises as her orgasm hit her and she nearly collapsed. I grabbed both cheeks again and held them open so that I could get all of her liquid and watch her holes convulse and spasm during the event. That virgin brown sphincter winked repeatedly right in front of my eyes as her bottom squirmed and the clenching of her pussy held my tongue nearly motionless as I caught all of the escaping liquid. My thumbs on each side of her distended lips pulled them apart and allowed me to watch her recover from her pleasure. Eventually, she started to calm down and the volume of her animal noises decreased.

Without giving her time to relax completely, I stood quickly, aimed my cock at the slippery pink hole, and stroked it in to the hilt on the very first push. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh, m-m-m-m-m-my…” she started but never finished. I soon picked up the pace in an attempt to send her over the edge into another crashing orgasm. My hands were on her back now, grasping at the narrowest part of her torso and holding her at an even lower angle over the railing. She held onto it with both hands for support as I plowed into her clutching cunt from behind.

Her hair trigger orgasms started again and it became extremely difficult to stay lodged in her. The thrashing started anew and her ass bucked as she fought to hold herself upright, to hold me in her pussy, to hold onto reality. The renewed wailing was too much to take and I fired off inside of her. I pounded at her quim, attempting to crush it with my rigid cock. She increased the intensity of her howling, I pushed harder, and stopped, holding myself inside her as far as I could get. We stood like this for several seconds and tried to regain our breaths.

The ferocity of our fucking had drained us both and we fell back onto the bed with her on top of me still holding me in her sheath. I could feel our combined juices drying on our genitalia while I stroked slowly in and out of her from below. The head of my cock now caused her discomfort so soon after such intense orgasms and she reached between her legs to hold me still. I wasn’t ready to let her off that easy, but I stopped the gentle rocking of my hips just the same. Instead, I let her believe for a second or two that I had relented then began flexing my shaft. The bulbous head rubbed softly against her G-spot and the motion made her squirm.

“Come on, stop. Let me rest,” she complained. “I can’t take any more. Really, please.”

“Next time I ask you to do something, maybe you’ll do it.” To emphasize my point, I reached down, pushed her hands out of the way, and flicked her clit.

“Dammit! Stop! I’m so sensitive that you’re going to hurt me.” She pulled her knees up and rolled her bottom up and away from my invasive member. My cock popped out of her, soaked, still hard, and ready for more action. “Geez, get that thing away from me,” she hissed. When she’d bent her knees up, her feet came off of the floor and I noticed that the mint green thong was still hanging from her left foot. Her pretty toes and boner inducing footwear were augmented by the sexy panty hanging from them. I grabbed it as she attempted to roll off of me, and it caught on her toes before snapping free. As she stood and turned towards me she held her legs together before the mess ran out of her. When she was facing me again, I made a point of wiping the cum off of my still hard shaft and giving my balls a quick swipe with the material. The silk felt good against my meat.

“Hey, what the hell…?” she began.

I interrupted her, “What do you care? You’re not wearing them home, at least not today.” I smiled at her, challenging bala escort her to defy me, “This is my house; I make the rules.”

“Oh,” her features softened, “that’s how it is.” She looked down the staircase and considered how far the walk to the bathroom was with a pussful of cum. “Since I’m leaving them here, can I use them too? While I’m downstairs, maybe I’ll rinse them out.”

I tossed the sticky thong to her and she held it between her legs as she gingerly walked downstairs. “Don’t be too long; I’m not done with you lady,” I called. After the last twenty minutes, I wasn’t so sure about her status as a lady anymore, and I was damned sure that she wasn’t going to consider me a gentleman by the time she left.

When I heard the water running downstairs, I got up and headed downstairs to make some drinks. In the kitchen, I clinked a few pieces of ice into two rocks glasses and poured two fingers of Jim Beam into each glass. I considered for a second, and downed one of them and then refilled the glass. When I heard the water stop, I was back on the bed, watching for her to exit the bathroom. The door opened downstairs and I could see the tiny thong hanging over the towel bar where it could dry. She stepped out of the small room, still wearing her heels and looking freshly scrubbed. Looking up at me, I could tell that she was trying to figure out a non-destructive way to get back at me.

She spied the saddle on its cradle and gracefully moved towards it. She turned her face back to me and with a mischievous look, threw a leg over it and stood just above the seat. I tried to play it cool, but inwardly worried that something might drip out of her onto the leather. I hoped that she had cleaned herself well, but was not about to act concerned. I picked up the remote and changed the input on my stereo. I found a rock song with a bumping beat and turned up the volume so that it filled the room, upstairs and down.

“Dance, baby,” I quietly ordered, although there was no chance she could hear it over the music. She may have read my lips or not, but she started swaying back and forth. She purposely avoided my watchful eyes, but she shimmied and rocked to the beat, running her hands up and down her sides, swinging her hair around her head, and working her ass like a practiced stripper. The tease made me think of another girl but only for a minute.

The last time I’d been with a girl who was so brazen about sex had been four years before, back home in Pittsburgh. Sarah had been two years older than me, would strip, suck, or fuck at the drop of a hat and even make out with her girlfriends on dares. Every time that happened it came as a shock to the recipient, but since she was so hot, few of them resisted her. One of the nutty things I remembered doing with her was while we were sitting in the cheap seats at Three Rivers Stadium watching the Steelers beat the Browns one freezing-ass winter day. We were sharing a blanket and she attempted to jack me off under the cover with a crowd around us. I say “attempted” because I couldn’t finish knowing that so many people around us probably knew what the smoking hot redhead was doing under there and it was so damned cold that all I wanted was for her to put my dick back in my pants and let me warm up.

But by far the wildest thing she’d ever done was when she’d climbed up on a pool table and gave a roomful of men and women a show one night. She danced like an experienced pole dancer and lots of eyes in that bar gave away their desire to be with her, men and women. When she was down to only her heels and g-string, a bouncer moved forward out of the crowd and stopped her from going any further. People booed, but he’d done it on a look from the owner who was afraid that he’d get shut down if any cops walked in and saw the show going on. Sarah never paid for a drink in the town of Zelienople again and she constantly got asked where the plaid mini-skirt was that she’d removed that night.

But here I was now watching this beautiful blond putting on the show. Her C-cup tits swayed on her tan chest and the definition of her legs while she danced in her heels made me forget about the girls back home. Having my own private striptease was certainly entertaining and I was ready to get at her body again, but decided to watch, sip my bourbon, and see where this would go. While I watched, it suddenly occurred to me that she had no tan lines. The usual white ass and tits of girls who wear bikinis at the beach were nonexistent. I made a mental note to see if I could learn where she did her nude sunbathing and wondered if Angie did too. Since both times that I had been with her sister had been in relatively low light conditions, I had not noticed much about her tan.

Olga’s dancing became more erotic and she mimicked a cowboy riding a bronco. “Ironic,” I thought, “since I just recently felt the same way while banging her from behind.” She grabbed the horn, a no-no when riding, ankara escort and moved forward as she danced and waved her other hand above her head in a circle. Her thighs brushed against the swells and she pretended to grind against the rough leather of the high, protruding horn. This made me glad that I didn’t have my McClellan saddle on display since that type of saddle has no phallic device sticking up to entice impromptu grinding by would-be strippers.

I drained the last of my whiskey and stood up to show my appreciation. My erection was back at full staff and while I was standing, she could see it. “No sense in wasting it by remaining seated,” I thought. Still trying to tease and pretending not to see me, she increased the intensity of her bump and grind routine. When her sex made contact with the hard leather of the horn and she bent both knees to better control her use against her clit, I put down my glass, picked up hers, and started down the stairs. With one swallow, I drained hers as well and caught the ice cube in my mouth. As I approached her, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the rubbing against her soft nub.

I bent forward and sucked a nipple into my mouth, allowing the ice cube to contact it. Her eyes flew open and her mouth went slack. Taking this to be a good sign, I grabbed her other breast in my hand. I clamped my thumb and forefinger to pinch the nipple and pulled, not enough to hurt her, but enough to get her attention. The forceful act of clamping down on it while the other was being sucked hard by my ice cold lips made her gasp. She pushed harder toward the protrusion against her upper vagina and stroked herself up and down on it. I worried that, left to her own devices, she may try to mount it and take it into her cunt. “That wouldn’t be good for the leather or her insides,” I mused as I came up with a new plan.

I swung myself into the saddle behind her, rubbing my erection up and down the crack of her ass. She tensed initially, probably afraid I was going to go for her ass, but leaned forward to allow me access to her pussy. As she ceased swaying, I decided that she’d stopped to allow me to penetrate her and started to work my cock up and down her wet-again sex until I’d lubed the head enough to attempt an entry. With her clit trapped against the horn of my western saddle and me behind her, she bent forward to allow me to take her from behind again. This time it was a slow, leisurely pace that I set since I figured she might have been sore from the first fucking she’d received.

We rocked back and forth slowly, careful not to hurt her sensitive nub on the rough leather strips wrapped around the saddle horn. Luckily, the tree of the saddle was a large one that would nearly accommodate two riders with a high cantle that I could rest my ass on as I pushed gently in and out of her. When I’d bought it, I never expected that it would be used in this way. She had to stand to support her own weight as she straddled the stirrups and the rigging and I amused myself thinking about the flowered pattern of the fenders and the interesting marks that it would make on the insides of those long legs.

As she wrapped her hands around the gullet of the saddle, I worked to fondle her breasts, lower back, and her ass. I wanted to grab a handful of each cheek again and separate them so that I could watch our coupling, but being mindful of her admonition to stay away from her nether hole, I contented myself with mimicking the swaying gait of a walking horse while we fucked. Besides, there was no room between us to get a good hold on her butt. So I watched her rock back and forth as I slowly stroked in and out of her.

I must have been poking at her G-spot just right, because her breathing became ragged again and I knew we had begun the short uphill climb to her plunge over an orgasmic cliff. I gradually picked up the pace, watching and listening for the signs that she was getting closer or wanted more. Her head tilted back and she moaned aloud at the ceiling so I slid a hand around her middle to caress her stomach and help to hold us together. If she came unglued carelessly, one or both of us might get hurt. Her already sensitive clit was too close to the horn to allow any rough and repeated contact and I didn’t want a concho up my ass if I got pushed backwards suddenly.

When the opportunity afforded itself, I slipped a hand in between her lower tummy and the horn so I could take the brunt of what was to come and protect her sensitive area. I picked up the tempo again, changing our speed to the rocking motion of a horse at a trot. The slapping sounds of my cock banging against her ass cheeks was nearly as loud as the music and the smell of her excitement mixed with the odors of old leather and horse sweat.

“I’m com-, I’m com-, I’m comingggggg,” she seethed and she pushed back hard while bending forward more to try to take in more of me. “Ohhhhhh, there, right there, oh-my-God-that’s-it-holy-shit-that’s-it-don’t-stop-don’t-stop! Ahhhhhhh, unnnnnnhhhh,” she trailed off. Her body tensed so hard that I could actually hear the popping in her back as her muscles and bones fought the exertion. She kept right on whispering a nonsensical stream of obscenities through her orgasm.

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