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THIRD RUNNER-UP
Baby Cowboy
by Pumpkin Jones
He was barely legal, and I was barely sober.
I was perched at the corner bar, eyeing my bartender's firm, muscular buttocks as he leaned way over to refill my tumbler with ice. It was a scotch-on-the-rocks night. I had been stood up by Dirk for the last time. I took deep breaths, and the heaving of my nipples against my tight cashmere sweater rendered them as erect as Dirk's rod used to get when he licked the perspiration from my armpit. Jake the bartender handed me a double. I swung around to look for a one-night stand to ease my aching pussycat. She was meowing loudly. Only the vocal stylings of Styx over the speakers could drown out my body's yearnings.
He was wearing cowboy boots and Wayfarer sunglasses,
but I only had eyes for that cucumber he was packing in his Gap relaxed-fit
jeans. He strutted over to the bar and ordered a buttery nipple. I gasped
audibly, and he looked at me and flashed a gleaming smile.
"I like my biscuits and my nipples buttered
real good," he said to me.
The rivulet of sweat was heading south between my
size 40DD bosom, straight toward my button of love.
Jake the bartender looked at him and broke our spell.
"Let's see your ID."
"I left it in my Bronco," the stranger
said, without batting an eye.
"You don't look 21."
"But you sure look like an asshole," he
shot back.
"Oh, Jake, get him the drink," I pleaded.
"You know the rules, Suzy."
Baby Cowboy turned to me. "Let's get outta
here."
We walked out together, my heart racing.
We crawled into the Bronco. He narrowed his lustful eyes as he studied me from shoulder to hip. My face flushed. My thighs trembled.
"I might not be twenty-one, but I'm old enough
to do some things." He grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me hard,
then slid his hand down my cashmere.
"Nice sweater, Suzy," he said.
He ripped it down to my navel.
I fumbled with his belt while he freed my puppies from their underwire kennels. I unzipped his jeans, and the big boy stood up and saluted me. I bent over and gave him a tongue bath. My skirt was hiked up to my pirate tattoo. He destroyed my thong with one strong hand. I climbed onto his love saddle, mounted my cowboy and he told me to ride him hard.
He held one big silicone-free breast in each hand
and kissed them while he plunged deeper and deeper inside me. I was impaled
on his love rod. The windshield was fogged up. The SUV was rocking. I leaned
back against the dashboard and grabbed at the radio dial. Three tries, then
I found the oldies station. I hadn't heard the extended version of "Freebird"
for years, but he stuffed my love muffin while singing with Skynyrd. His
geyser shot all over my shoulders before the commercial break. I squealed
with delight and rubbed his cum across my tits and belly.
Gravel flew as he roared off into the night. I stood there with my torn sweater smoking a cigarette in the darkness. I licked his cactus juice from my sticky fingers. That young cowboy sure knew how to ride across my range.
©2003 Nerve.com
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