Ride 'Em Cowgirl!

As Carson watched Lizbeth load the hot water pouches, straddle her stallion and ride off into the dusk, he couldn’t help the rise in his body temperature or the sudden awareness of the flesh buried in his Levi’s. Her legs hugged the horse and her booted feet hooked gracefully in the stirrups. Deep red hair fell over her shoulders in twin braids, laying possessively over the identical mountains of her breasts. Her shirt, buttoned enough to cover her, but not enough to make one’s imagination stop roaming, tucked tightly into her jeans. She sat proudly in her saddle, a woman in control of her mount.

Standing just as proudly, his throbbing cock begged that he follow her.

Lizbeth tied her steed to the post set in the ground and took the water pouches from the saddle bags, then poured each gingerly into the small porcelain tub. Years ago, her father had brought her a beautiful painting. In it, a lone cowgirl took a bath in a small tub in the middle of nowhere, beneath the dusky sky. Her boots stood beside the tub, her horse tethered to a single post. Lizbeth had fallen in love. The painting had inspired her. Since then, she’d taken her own shameless baths in the middle of nowhere, bringing the painting to life.

She stripped out of her clothing, replaced the broad-brimmed hat back upon her head, and immersed herself in the small tub. She had just leaned back, the warmth of her skin meeting the cool porcelain when she heard approaching hooves.

Their eyes met as he approached. She didn’t speak, just waited as he vaulted off his horse and stood over her.

“This is where you sneak off to,” he asked.

Nodding, she sat erect, well aware that her nipples seemed to float just above the water. She gazed up at him shamelessly.

“Ah, damn, Lizbeth,” he whispered.

Still, she said nothing. Her hands traced symmetrical lines down her sides, through the heated water, and over her thighs. Her eyes bore into him as he followed her every movement.

“That tub ain’t big enough for two,” he stated. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, pushing each one through the eyehole until it hung loosely and he shoved it off his shoulders.

She stood slowly, her legs spread wide as she leaned toward him. He stepped closer, allowing her dripping hand to tug at the button of his pants. “Off,” she commanded as her other hand traced the contours of his well defined stomach.

Obeying, Carson kicked out of his boots and slid his pants down his legs.

His pulsing shaft bounced for her, jutting out from a nest of ebony curls. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling as she wrapped one hand around him. When he gasped, sucking air into his lungs, she squeezed and tugged just enough to make his back arch and his eyes close.

“Carson,” she taunted as she worked his erection into a throbbing rod of velvet steel, “I want you.”

“Here?”

She nodded and slid her hand smoothly from the base of his prick to the engorged head and back again, “I want you deep inside me; sate this damned need I’ve had for you for so damned long.” She looked into his eyes, “I’ve waited…”

He groaned, “Damnit, Liza, why didn’t you say?”

Leaning into him, she rested her forehead against his chin as she stroked him, “I’m saying.”

Carson pulled away from her, “Bend over, Baby, grab the edge of that basin and let me see you.”

She did as he asked, turned away from him, spread her legs wide and bent at the waist, gripping the edge of the tub for balance.

Carson sighed and stroked his aching cock as he stared at her. Her round little ass inflamed him. Between her legs the glistening pink lips of her pussy called to him. He turned slightly, changing his view and his breath caught at the sight of her perfect tits hanging, swaying with each breath she took.

She turned then, and looked at him over her shoulder. Her hat tilted slightly, she smiled up at him and wiggled her buttocks, “Aren’t you going to guide that bull home?”

Carson stepped up and put one hand on each of her hips, holding her in place as he aligned his dripping prick with her silken folds.

“Ride ‘em, Cowgirl,” she muttered under her breath as she thrust backwards, impaling herself.

Carson cried out, his body thrumming with lust as her tight channel swallowed him. She was silk and heat; made perfectly for him.

He withdrew slowly and then plunged inside once again. She sobbed as he found his pace and slammed into her torturously, his balls slapping her bare clit with each thrust.

She met his rhythm, her mews growing louder with each prod of his cock until she screamed and her cream drenched them. She tightened around him, milking and pulling as she came. He rode frantically, his fingers digging into her hips as he lost control and mixed his seed with her honey.

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “I think I just reinvented the painting…”


Word Count: 865