Each week I shall post a FREE short story for your reading pleasure. Most of these come from my anthologies of short stories, but a few are from guest authors.
This story is my introduction to the Western genre…
I was 19 years old during the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college. My meager summer job was working for a Montana dude ranch where eastern city dwellers would come and experience the wild western life of the old mountaineers. We three men – at the time I considered myself to be a grown man – maintained a fishing camp in a saddle valley between two mountains. This was my job – to live at the camp and provide the necessary comforts as the greenhorn fishermen tested the ‘roughing–it’ lifestyle. This was my job – to provide sufficient primitive camping experience to send them home with fond memories, but also to ensure that they all got home with nothing more painful than a saddle sore.
Okay, that’s an exaggeration. I wasn’t actually in-charge of anything. I did what the camp boss said, and he was responsible for the safety and fun of the guests. I would help out guiding the guests to the lakes and making sure they didn’t get hurt or lost.
Each week the boss would bring up a new group of city dudes to trout fish in the small, high mountain lakes. ‘Bring up’ meant a four-hour horseback ride which was likely the first horseback ride for many of the dudes and their dudette wives. They would arrive sore, tired, and hungry. After a campfire meal of hotdogs and beans, they would tell ghost stories by our campfire and sleep in tents. Throughout the week they would catch fish and our cook would fry their catch over the open flames. Nothing bolsters the savage beast like providing for their own food. I would chase down their horses, collect firewood, dig latrines, and do whatever other portion of the roughing-it experience the guests really didn’t want to experience.
Some weeks there would be two or three couples with their children. In these cases the adults would usually know each other and be on a group or family vacation adventure. Some weeks there would be four or five couples sans kids. These groups usually didn’t know each other and the first few days were a tad tense as everyone became familiar. Frequently, these strangers would leave as best friends, promising to reconnect next year. The men and the male children always had a great time. But, the women and the female children usually endured the rustic life with no electric hair dryers. We never had any groups of men without their wives. There must have been something about the ‘call to nature’ than men couldn’t enjoy without watching their wives suffer.
My work was not so bad, but it was still a miserable job living in the camp with no electricity, no cell phone service, no Internet, and only my left hand for my nightly entertainment. The guests all had their wives.
Ah, this could be why they always brought their wives!
Every three weeks, I was allowed to ride out with the departing group of guests for a few days of R&R before returning with the supply horses. Thus, with little else to do, I paid very close attention to the wives. I would watch them walk to the latrine, watch them take little sponge baths in the creek, and I would lie awake listening to their nightly pulsating moans of mankind’s most primitive form of pleasure.
The one thing about that summer job that I’ll never forget was the group that came up July 16th. Three couples with no children, but they all knew each other. One of the wives was Victoria, but everyone called her Vicki. However, I don’t believe that I ever spoke her name. She was short with curves, dark hair and soft deep eyes. When she caught me staring at her – which was frequently – she would join her eyes with mine and I would get lost in those dark pools. Whenever the sun was at a low angle in the sky, the light would shine on her hair and turn it from brown to a deep reddish color. She knew that I was watching her, but she didn’t seem to mind. I could see she was a bit of a flirt and enjoyed the attention of a significantly younger man. She looked to make certain that I was watching before flipping up her shirttail to reveal a bare bottom while walking to the latrine early on the fourth morning of her stay.
But I’m getting ahead of the story.
The camp was on a hill overlooking a broad meadow. Coming up from the meadow was, first, our central fire pit for the enjoyment of the guests. In a semi-circle around and facing the fire were the guests’ tents. Behind those, on the left side, were the cooking fire and our supplies. Around on the right side, were the crew tents and the small corral for the horses. That first night of Vicki’s stay, I had the good fortune to be walking from the cook fire to my tent behind the guest tents when she went to bed – before her husband. At the time, I had deduced that she had no experience with tents. However, now my mind’s eye thinks that she knew exactly what she was doing, when she left the lantern lit while she undressed. The light from the lantern projected her silhouette onto the tent’s back wall. The campers and staff on the other side of the tent – around the fire – could not see her silhouette. But, I was mesmerized by the clarity with which I could see her features projected on the white tent wall. Stopping dead in my tracks, I watched her remove her shirt, a T-shirt, and then her bra. I could easily see the outline of her soft breasts as she bent over to remove her shoes. Then she lowered her jeans, followed closely by her panties. Only after slipping into her sleeping bag did she turned out the lantern. All could see – well I on the back side of the tent could see – that she slept in the nude. My left hand and I spent the night imagining what it would be like to hold her, kiss her, and, make love with her.
Beyond this, the group’s adventure was uneventful until the third day. I was staying in the camp that day, unpacking bags of supplies and packing bags of trash to be carried out of the forest. I was just doing odd jobs as the trail boss took the group alone to a string of lakes along the backside of the saddle valley. The cook and I had little to do; for the most part we had the day off. Two days of fishing had been enough for Vicki, and she stayed back in the camp as well. This was most likely the reason that the boss had told me to stay behind.
Vicki wanted to do some riding around by herself. This would normally have been prohibited, but she obviously was not the typical greenhorn dudette that we entertained. She must have grown up on a ranch or a farm because she knew more about riding horses than I did. She promised the boss that she would stay in the meadow just below the camp to the east, and he had permitted her unsupervised wandering.
This area was a large marshy meadow with several small pools joined with creeks sufficiently narrow that her horse could easily step across them. There were several large flat rocks scattered about as though tossed there by some prehistoric giant. If she stayed out of the surrounding woods, she would not get into any trouble. I had been instructed to periodically ride out along the ridge of the hill overlooking meadow, where I could see across it, and keep an eye on her.
At lunchtime – after she had been gone for a couple of hours – I went to look for her. She had not taken a lunch with her, so I was planning on telling her that we had some sandwich fixings ready. I rode along the ridge to the east looking for her down on the meadow. But I didn’t see her. Riding down along the far edge near the tree line, I finally found her at the far eastern edge of the clearing. I found her laying on one of the flat boulders. She was topless sunbathing.
I watched her, unsure of what to do next. I couldn’t simply wander over and invite her to lunch. I couldn’t even shout to her as I was so close that she would surely be embarrassed when she sat up and saw me. But, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her either. She was lying on her back; her head resting on her rolled up shirt. The rounded mounds of her breasts were soaking in the warm solar rays. She was maybe 50 yards away, but I could still see her nipples clearly standing out – pert and firm in the cool breeze.
I concluded that the only thing for me to do was to quietly back away. She would come back to camp on her own when she got hungry. However, before I could move, she turned her head, opened those dark eyes, and stared at me. Perhaps she had known I was there all along. Rolling to her side, she openly ogled me, making no move to cover herself. My breath froze in my lungs and my heart stopped beating as she slowly stood up, kicked off her shoes, and pushed down her jeans and panties. Kicking these off too, she stood nude in the Superman pose on the rock. As I still sat motionless, sitting on my horse. She gathered up her clothes. Walking over to her waiting horse, she pushed the bundle into the saddlebag. Glancing back toward me again, she smiled and mounted the horse.
Slowly she rode Lady Godiva style into the shadows of the trees ringing the meadow; except her hair wasn’t anywhere near long enough to conceal anything. For what seemed to be an eternity, I pondered what to do next. If I followed her, it would surely lead to trouble. But, it could be the kind of trouble I might enjoy. If I let her go, she might get lost, and then I would be in trouble that I certainly would not enjoy. My mind was locked on the memory of the curly V-shaped clump of dark hair at the top of her thighs. I turned my horse toward the woods and followed.
She had been hanging back, waiting for me. As I came into sight, she laughed and rode away further eastward. I hurried to catch up with her, but she was a far better skilled equestrian than I. She easily led me on a wild goose chase. Her laughter guided me through the trees as she delighted in this game of chase. She turned to look, and laugh, at me whenever I would get close. And then she would kick her horse with her bare heels and pull away. Her horse seemed to have a sense of the game, and was conspiring with her to taunt me. However, in a few minutes I would have her. She did not know about the line of boulders dead ahead; her horse could not climb over them. The large rocks were concealed by a line of bushes so that she would not see them until she was directly upon them. Then she would have to stop and turn sharply south. In anticipation, let her slip out of sight, and then I turned south ahead of her. A minute later she saw the rocks, hesitated, and also turned south. As my trap sprung closed, I was now in front of her and was able to catch her by pulling the reins from her hand as I stopped her horse. In a flash, I had the nude woman pulled down the ground, standing in my arms.
She wasn’t laughing anymore. The swiftness with which I had captured her had taken the humor out of her teasing. She didn’t scream or otherwise fight me; no doubt she had intended for me to eventually catch her. Had she struggled or cried out, I would have left her alone. But, she only silently looked at me with those deep dark eyes as I pulled her to me and kissed her. She wiggled and lightly pushed back, but I pinned her arms behind her back and continued with the kiss. She relaxed and gave me her tongue. Holding her snug, I leaned over to take her left breast into my mouth. The nipple was all ready hard and she sucked in a breath as I softly squeezed the nipple with my lips. Ever so gently I bit her.
Releasing her arms, I spun her around and pushed her to her knees. The ground was soft and spongy, covered with thick moss. A large fallen tree trunk lay immediately in front of her, and I pushed against her back until she leaned across it. I lifted her hips, and bent her over the log. Keeping my left hand pressing gently in the center of her back, I wedged my knee between her thighs. As her legs opened the fragrance of her arousal filled the air and spurred my level of excitement higher. Placing my right index finger at the base of her spine, I slowly teased her by drawing it down between the cheeks of her bottom. There was a perceptible spasm from her as I paused at her tight asterisk-shaped hole. However, my interest was lower so my finger traced on down to her moist entrance. Here I slipped in one, and then two fingers inside her. She pressed her butt back toward me to more deeply impale herself as my fingers easily entered.
The pressure of my swollen cock in my jeans could no longer be refused. Removing my fingers from within her, I opened my pants and set my erection free. Pulling close, I entered her from behind. As I thrust forward she pressed back, driving me in deeper. She began pressing up, pumping my penis with the rhythm of her hips. I was pressing forward, mostly holding still, while she would rotate her hips up and back, then down and forward. Her vaginal muscles squeezed me tight. The result was fantastic!
I was not completely inexperienced; this was not even my first time doing doggie. However, all a college girl had to do to be classified as ‘a good lay’ was simply not say ‘no’. Not this woman – she was determined to demonstrate a woman’s powerful ability to respond and direct our lovemaking. She began pulsating the squeezing of her vaginal muscles, each time she pressed back, to drive me inside deep. A familiar rhythm of moans flowed from her open mouth; the sounds I’d heard from her tent. She was driving me wild as I struggled to think about calculus and cold showers – anything to hold back my ejaculation. I wanted this miracle to last as long as possible.
All too soon, I could stand it no more, and my come burst into her. She continued with the hip motion after my spend was finished and my muscles continued to spasm – pumping dry. She slowed her rhythm, but didn’t stop until I softened and slipped out. Then pushing me off of her back, she stood up. A glob of my come dripped out of her and landed on the dried leaves between her feet. She giggled.
“Time for you to head back to camp, cowboy,” she said. These were the first words spoken between us since she had arrived in the camp.
“We have sandwiches ready,” I replied. What a stupid thing to say, but it was the only thing that would come out of my mouth. I was in such a state of shock.
“Go ahead, I’ll be along in a minute.” Pulling myself back into my pants, I zipped up and retrieved my horse. “Hey,” she said, stopping me, “do you know how to eat pussy as well as you know how to fuck?”
“Ah… probably not, but…”
“I’ll teach you tomorrow. Same place, but don’t make me wait so long for you.”
“Okay,” hence my increased popularity with the girls sophomore year!
Climbing on my horse, I gazed back at her one more time. When I’m a hundred years old, I will still remember that vision of the soft curves of her bottom as she stood on her tiptoes, reaching into the saddlebag to fish out her clothes.
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If you enjoy the Western genre, then try out my two contributions.
Prairie Passions is available from Amazon and FREE with Kindle Unlimited.
South Pass Brides is also at Amazon