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The wind smoked my breath as I hammered the fence post into the ground. The boss man didn’t want a single doggie to make its way off his land, and it was my job this week to ensure that didn’t happen.
But it was late in the day; the sun was heading down and would be over Sugarloaf Mountain within the hour. I just didn’t feel like doing any more work. Heck, it had already been a 12-hour day. My arms were sore from hammering, my fingers ached from pinching the wire to the fence post, and my backside hurt from spending the better part of the week riding a stubborn horse down the far side of the property repairing the fence.
I heard a crack of thunder in the distance, and the dark black cloud was heading my way. Yes, it was time to head to the shelter.
That’s about all it was, a shelter. A one-room respite, away from the fickle weather of the Southwest Texas Territory. Not much to it, a single bunk, a wash stand, a single window and a fireplace which served for warmth and cooking. A nearby stream provided fresh water and several horse blankets provided warmth.
It was a far cry from the outskirts of El Paso, where I spent the two days off I had each month in the arms of a pretty senorita. Yes, out here alone on the range one gets to thinking about the good parts of life. It gives us hope; all is not work.
“Giddy-up,” I said as I spurred King toward the shelter, which was a mile and a half away over some desolate countryside. I thought of the remaining eight or nine miles of ground I had to cover before the end of the week. It was a must, cause the boss had me scheduled to help with the drive of several hundred head of cattle down to the railroad once I my work was complete. The sale of the livestock would keep the ranch running, so it was a must that we fulfill that end of the bargain he struck with the Chicago folk.
Such is the life of a cowboy.
When I arrived at the shelter, I started the fire, washed and fed my horse, clipped off my chaps and threw some kindling into the fireplace. Making sure the fire was burning bright, I hauled a few pails of water into the shelter to clean off some of the dirt, trail dust and mud from my body. I warmed some water to give myself a bit of a sponge bath before settling back onto the pillows on the sparse bunk. Although the night’s chill was quickly arriving, I battled it with the fire and a swig of the tequila I had brought with my in my saddlebag. Yup, me and Mr. Tequila would be spending the night together.
“I’m an old cowhand, from the Rio Grande. But my legs ain’t bowed, and my cheeks aren’t tan…” I hummed the old cowboy song to myself as I sipped the tequila and rested my aching bones. My face was warm from the rays of the sun, and I wondered if I’d soon have the wrinkled face of a turtle. Some of my friends are 40, but they look 60.
Along the way I let my mind wander back in time, to El Paso. To great wine, fast women and fractured, out of key, songs. It’s great to be on the range, but it’s better to spend some of those hard-earned greenbacks on some of the finer things in life.
Like Marguerite, the little Mexican minx, or Annie, the shy but tantalizing girl from Missouri, or good old San Antonio Rosie, the sweetheart of a woman with the huge smile and breasts to match. Ah, the finer parts of life; they can be found just outside the city limits of El Paso, just shy of the Mexican border.
There is a saloon on the Cherry Patch Ranch; the liquor never stops, nor does the parade upstairs with one of the bargirls. The girls, who work for Miss Kitty, are available for everyone from the mayor to the sheriff to us lowly cowhands, as long as we can ante up the price of admission. That admission is sure to bring a smile to any man’s face, for the girls who wear the flirty, flowing dresses downstairs are downright animals just one floor above.
I am not ashamed to say I have sampled every one of the women upstairs, sometimes several times. Variety is the spice of life, and as sure as Teddy Roosevelt is president I have the right to use my hard-earned pay for rest and relaxation with the girl of my wishes at the Cherry Patch. If that privilege isn’t in the Declaration of Independence, it should be.
I took another swig from the bottle and fondly thought of my last trip to the Cherry Patch Ranch. After paying for a room to hang my spurs and belongings, I ambled over to the saloon in search of a beer, a smile and a woman, not necessarily in that order. There were many of each, and I merely knocked back a couple of beers and took a lay of the land until I noticed a familiar smell of perfume and then felt a finger on my shoulder.
“Why Miss Kitty, long time, no see. And that’s a shame because you are a sight for sore eyes,” I said with a smile, eying her bosom. “My oh my oh my!”
Miss Kitty shook her head. “I thought you would come up with something a little more original, Slick, but then, why break old habits?”
The women who work for Miss Kitty had a way with men, twisting bursa escort them around their fingers as they greased them up for the kill upstairs. Miss Kitty had been running the bordello at the Cherry Patch Ranch for more years than anyone could remember, and was always quick with a quip…unless you were the type that couldn’t control your liquor or manners with her girls, at which time the affable woman turned into a ferocious tiger. She saw no reason not to plug your leg with a bullet if you did not treat her girls right. And if you complained to the sheriff, you just might get the other leg plugged as well.
Miss Kitty received a well-earned respect from the men who visited her parlor. She might be the provider of all things good, but she was also the woman in charge, no questions asked.
“Miss Kitty, like it or not you look great,” I continued, giving her a dignified up and down, once over inspection. Then I gazed around the room. “Business looks great around these parts.”
“Business has been good,” she admitted, taking the perfect opening to one of her patented lines. “I know the girls have been busy. You know the old saying, it’s a business doing pleasure with you!”
“I’ll bet! I guess Rosie is busy because I haven’t seen her tonight.”
“Rosie, well bless her heart, she’s busy but not like you’re a’thinkin,” said Miss Kitty, shaking her head from side to side. “She up and got married to Preacher Roe just a month ago. Here tell she’s got a bun in the oven already!”
My heart sank as I thought of the loss of Rose from the flowers in this establishment. She was a blazing 20-year-old redhead with the tightest coochie I had ever sampled.
Miss Kitty noted my disappointment. “Say, Slick, she’s answering to a higher authority,” she said, raising her eyes toward the ceiling. “One day you should settle down. But I do have a surprise for you.”
The woman walked away, then, turned toward me, and gave a come here gesture with her dainty finger. Not one to disappoint a lady, I took my beer and ambled after her. We took the 24 steps up to her fragrant, spacious office on the second floor, where she primly sat behind her desk. She looked tiny behind it; the desk was a present from the retired sheriff, who held Miss Kitty in a special place in his heart.
“So, Slick, what’s your pleasure?” she asked with a knowing smile while opening a bottle of whiskey.
“Well, ma’am, I wanted a little company tonight, but I sure was looking forward to seeing Rosie,” I disappointedly said, taking a glass of the firewater and offering a silent toast.
“Well, I don’t think the reverend would appreciate her, um, working here, even with you, but I just might have something to pick you up.”
I looked at her and smiled. “You aren’t thinking of treating me to a little of your pleasures, are you ma’am?”
“Not on your life, Slick, but if you have ten bucks we might just have something you are guaranteed to like.”
Miss Kitty never let me down. It was if she could read my mind. For as long as I had known her, from the days years ago when she was a working girl and not a madam, she knew how and when and why I liked what I liked. She knowingly looked at me, saw the shock in my eyes over the twice normal fee, and casually stated, “Your call, but if you don’t like it I will gratefully give you back the house’s cut for old times sake.”
My date for the evening would have to be very special for Miss Kitty to make this kind of an offer. “I’m game,” I said, knowing if Miss Kitty was vouching for the uniqueness one of her girls then she would have to be a first class filly.
Miss Kitty reached over and rang a bell, then sat back and smiled her all-knowing grin at me. Soon there was a light knock at the door. When it opened, I couldn’t believe my eyes. She was a princess, a beauty like no other. She stood before us and I truly lost my breath.
“Yes Miss Kitty, can I help you?” said the quiet but sultry voice. A girl stood before us, curls on her hair, a fine specimen of femininity.
“Hello Julie dear. I’d like you to meet Slick O’Neill; he’s been coming around these parts for too many years, but for some reason I’ve taken a liking to him and let him come back,” said Miss Kitty, pointing at me. “I know you have an appointment now, but I would like you to see to it that Slick has a wonderful night.”
The woman was a feast for sore, range-tired eyes. A petite blonde with excellent proportions in a frilly full-length red dress. She had an ample bosom, a charming smile, and when she said “Of course, ma’am”, I thought I would melt. “It’s a date!” She nodded, then left the room, but not before my eyes focused on her backside that gently rounded out the dress.
“She is beautiful,” I noted.
“Well, Slick, about nine o’clock or so she’s yours for the night. You can stay in her room. She has some excellent books there, so maybe you can read or something.” I was thinking about the “or something”, because this girl had a special air about bursa escort bayan her, and it wasn’t her scent. That date, through, was an hour and a half away, and I wondered what I would do until my dream girl re-materialized. As if reading my mind, Miss Kitty asked if my day had been a long one.
“You bet, it was a hellacious ride here, and my bones ache,” was my simple reply.
She nodded. “Poor baby, momma knows what you need.” She stood, and walked over to the far side of the room. A spacious bathtub was there, and she began walking several hot pans of water over from the fireplace. “I took a bath earlier tonight, and this should heat it up a bit. Go behind that curtain and strip down to your birthday suit. There’s a towel back there, hop into the tub when you are ready.”
With that she walked back to her desk and began working on something. I stepped behind the curtain, stripped, put the towel around my waist and came back into the room. I tested the water, it was hot, not burning hot but hot. I dropped the towel and stepped into the tub, oohing and ahhing as I slide into the soapy, perfumed water.
I felt her presence behind me as I relaxed. “Young Julie is a special girl, you will like her,” she said, placing a bath towel over my eyes then began massaging my neck and upper back. It didn’t take long for the tenseness to slip and slide away as my mind wandered to my upcoming rendezvous with Julie.
After massaging away the kinks she told me to get the towel around my middle and join her in the small dressing room off her main suite.
I entered, and walked over to her. She was sitting in a chair, facing the wall. “I thought you might like to see this,” she said, as I sat beside her. She was looking at a small opening in the wall, and soon I too was looking through the hole. There we could see Julie in a slinky French noblewoman’s outfit, with high neckline and colorful shoes and stockings.
She was sitting beside a man on a bed, gently stroking his cock. He was in ecstasy, eyes back in his head, and you could tell he was getting ready to fire his spunk. “Do you like this?” she shyly asked, stroking his erection up and down like a piston on Mr. Cartwright’s oilrig.
“Ohhh, yesss, don’t stop,” he said with a gasp.
“I’m sorry, but I must!” she precociously said.
The look on his face was precious. It was saying NO but words couldn’t emerge from his lips. It didn’t matter, because the look did a complete reversal when Julie dipped her head downward and opened her mouth wide. She took the man’s whanger into her mouth, and began puckering her lips on it. Soon, she was sucking it.
She held it in her mouth for a while, then began milking it with her lips. She followed that by bobbing her head up and down on the expanding whanger.
It didn’t take long, but Julie soon had the man shooting his pent up spunk in her mouth. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I saw her throat swallow most of his offering while her head continued to wildly bob on his manhood. I looked trance-like at the coupled twosome, as not even Miss Kitty’s gentle nudge could remove my eyes from the scene in the room next door.
Miss Kitty closed the small hole in the wall, but I continued to stare at the now blank wall.
“She, she, uh she was sucking on him, I can’t believe it, where did she learn such a thing,” I babbled. “It was unbelievable. I’ve never seen anything like it in my 42 years.”
Miss Kitty chuckled, then shook her head. “Men. Do something a little different and they swoon all over a pretty young thing!”
The madam smiled, mentioning that she knew all along, that I would adore the newcomer. In fact she told me the two women had discussed me for a couple weeks.
“Julie grew up in New Orleans, a girl of French background. Apparently she learned some French loving from her mother; they play a different game with their men over there. Viva la difference, as they say. But I didn’t see Ben Cartwright or Rick Baker or even Little Joe complain about that one bit, oh no I didn’t,” said Miss Kitty, laughing. “If it bothers you what she did, I can find you another girl. You like Monique, and she’s available for the night, as is Annie and a new girl Cynthia.”
“No! I want her. I want Julie,” I emphatically said, “she’s beautiful…and so very talented.”
Miss Kitty knowingly smiled and said it would be.
“Okay, but you have to promise me something,” said the madam with a touch of concern. “Julie is very special, she has special talents, but she has not had a man inside her since her arrival here three weeks ago. No, she’s not a virgin…an untoward uncle relieved her of that flower years ago. But she’s embarking on a new career here, and nobody has planted his seed in her. You can have her for the night, and I know you will be satisfied, but what and how she satisfies her is her decision, not yours. Are you game?”
There was no question in my mind that I was. Miss Kitty had never steered me wrong in the past, and escort bursa Julie was a princess in worldly dress. I couldn’t wait to see her, and luckily, I didn’t have to as her light knock came once again on the door.
She opened it, and there, before us, was a feast for sore eyes. Julie had cleaned herself up, put on a new dress, and came into the room. She sort of smiled and said, “I told you I would be back. Thanks for waiting. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you in any way.”
The cat not only caught my tongue, but also apparently shut down my brain, as I merely stared at her beauty.
Miss Kitty sparked me back to reality. “Go on you two, it’s getting late, and Slick, you have to be tired.” She turned to Julie. “He’s been bathed and I think he’s ready for bed.”
Julie nodded a knowing smile, leading me down the hallway to her bedroom. It was a pretty room, with a four-poster bed in the center, a fireplace along the far wall, a writing desk on the other wall and several pitchers of drinking, and cleansing, water. Atop the bed were several feather pillows and an Amish quilt. It was a girl’s room and I felt a little like I was invading her privacy.
“Do you like?” she asked, her hand waving to her room. “It’s not big, but it is comfortable.”
“The room is beautiful, and so are you,” I replied, soaking in the smell of perfume and scented candles.
“You are so sweet. I’ve been looking forward to our getting together. Miss Kitty has said nothing but nice things about you,” said Julie, leading me over to the bed.
She began massaging my neck as we looked at the fire. All was calm and her rubs quieted my muscles. We quietly spoke of my life as a cowboy, riding the range like a nomad, never staying in one place too long to put down roots. Julie spoke of growing up taking care of several younger brothers and sisters, a feat made more difficult after her mother had died and her father left her and the kids under the eyes of his brother and wife.
It wasn’t a pretty upbringing, the uncle was a bastard, and she quietly cried when speaking of him. Once she turned 18 she vamoosed away from New Orleans and holed up in Houston for a while before catching the railroad to the Southwest part of the state. When she arrived in El Paso, Miss Kitty took her in.
“You know, I don’t have to work here, Miss Kitty didn’t make any demands of me,” she said in a matter of fact voice. “I wanted to. She has been so kind, and let’s face it, there aren’t a lot of things I can do. I mean, I never went past grade four. But I do like to read, and I thought I would like to travel.”
We spoke of books we both loved, of skinny-dipping when the feeling hit us. We talked of the moon, the stars, and whether women had the right to be equals with men.
Her arms encircled my body as we spoke, and she held me close as her arms began working their way down my front. She unhooked my belt, and pulled down my zipper. “Let’s make you a little more comfortable.”
I wanted to turn around and roll her onto her back on the bed, but I knew I couldn’t. She was a pretty peach, but I had promised Miss Kitty I would put myself into Julie’s capable hands and wouldn’t make any demands.
Julie flashed her smile and reached down to pull off my boots, then did the same to my jeans. There I was with a tent in my underpants, all for her. “I think your whanger likes me,” said Julie, dropping to her knees in front of me. I leaned back against the bed, and watched as she pulled down my underpants and let my Pedro flip out skyward.
She smiled, licked her lips, then bent forward and began licking the tip of my Pedro. It was a feeling, or series of feelings, I had never felt before. I had bedded a number of high-class women before, and I was sure that in their wildest dreams they had never thought about licking a whanger. I had been in bordellos around the southwest and never even heard of such a thing. And here was the lovable Julie licking me like a cat would milk.
“Whoa, ma’am,” I gasp when she started sucking me. I felt like a young buck again, and pounded my whanger into her wet, willing mouth like a railroad pile driver would a spike into soft ground. The eruption started from deep within, and traveled up my insides and through the length of my whanger as my orgasm started just minutes after she took her place between my legs. I came a bucketful as she continued to suck me, bouncing her head up and down on my Pedro. It was an intense feeling I never wanted to end, yet it had to. I collapsed back onto the bed as she continued to rub my legs.
“I think you liked that,” she commented, licking some of the cum which had escaped her mouth back inside. “You taste good.”
I couldn’t believe the foul thing she did, yet I found myself loving her for it. I pulled her head close, kissing her lips that were still tainted with the traces of my love sauce. Most men would never kiss a whore, nor would they you, but at the time it felt the right thing to do. It was quiet a series of feelings that went through me, because I was so used to being in charge. Now here was this beautiful girl who had given me the most unbelievable orgasm in my life sitting down next to me with her head on my shoulder.
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