I climb into the cab of your truck in front of the rodeo arena gate. You've already gone home to get cleaned up before the Rodeo Association awards BBQ tonight, and then came back to pick me up. I didn't get as dirty as you, since I was only in the announcer's booth, but I didn't win two blue ribbons in the roping competitions, either. But you couldn't tell it by looking at you now. Red hair clean and loose around your shoulders, big silver concho belt draped over the short denim skirt with the frilly bottom that you've dying to wear since you bought it last January. Do I smell a hint of vanilla jasmine? Dressy black cowgirl boots, as opposed to the worn, dusty workaday boots whose heels you drove into the dirt of the arena floor earlier today, bringing you victory. You worked hard for these ribbons, and you're really gonna knock 'em dead tonight.
I'm admiring the view, thinking naughty thoughts about sliding a hand up your bare thigh, when I noticed you've missed the turn. "Hey, wait, you can go up here and turn left to get back to the park." You pat my leg, with a grin that tells me you meant to miss that turn.
Ten minutes later, we're on the highway leading out of town. The last few rays of sun paint fiery reds, oranges and pinks on the tips of the hills. That fire has faded by the time you turn off the highway, onto an unpaved road. This far out in the country, there are no lights, except your headlights. The dashboard glows softy, but they are no match for light from the blue diamonds of your eyes.
It's dark, and this far away from the city lights, the stars are a canopy across the sky. The full moon provides enough light to see by, and you pull the truck into a field. You get out without a word, and walk around to the tailgate. By the time I get out, you've unrolled a few blankets in the open truck bed and are pulling the top off an ice chest.
"What about the awards?"
"Lynn's the team captain, she can get them for all of us. Besides," you add, looking up from the cooler, "I need a night off."
I realize we didn't need to go to the BBQ, because you've packed an entire picnic dinner for us to enjoy under the stars. A heavy mantle of responsibility has been lifted, and we are free to relax for a change - nobody around and no place to be tomorrow (I love three-day weekends). We sit flat with our backs against the cab, enjoying the food, the music, the wine and the company. We leave the pass-through window open so we can hear the radio. I pull you up for an occasional slow dance right there in the bed of the truck, when the right song comes on, holding you tight as you lean back in my arms. After the food is gone, we sit side by side, holding hands and laughing at the stars.
I wonder if the wine is beginning to take effect on you, as you lean your head on my shoulder, and your body sags against me. With my arm around you, I reach around and lightly rub your neck and twirl strands of hair around my fingers. The dangly, sparkly earnings are fun to toy with, too. You alternatively purr and chuckle appreciatively.
There's a hand on my chest - how'd that get there? Hey, you're pretty good with those buttons. Soon you have my shirt open to my stomach and are running your fingers through the hair on my chest. I can feel your leg increasing pressure against mine, until you swing it over, boots knocking, as you turns on your side towards me. That's when I notice you've already undone all but one of the buttons on your blouse. Are you wearing anything under there? I slip my hands into the thin white fabric, pausing to demolish that last button, and massage your shoulders as you run your fingernails up and down my sides, giving me goose bumps.
The next thing I know, you've got my belt buckle undone and are working on the buttons of my Levis, palming and scratching the growing hardness under the fabric. I reach for your waist, slipping my fingers under the waistband of your skirt, but you gracefully push my hands away, replacing them at shoulder level. It becomes apparent that you are driving, and right now I'm just along for the ride.
I try to make this easier, so I sit on the side of the truck while you kneel before me on the blanket, your blouse still loose around your shoulders. You realize that the pants won't come off without taking the boots off too, so off slip the boots. You finally have the fly unbuttoned, and you reach inside. Trying to make sure everything's there? Yep, all there and then some. You move forward between my legs, and tongue the base of my neck. Working down, kissing my chest, pulling the remaining shirttail out as you go, sucking hard on each nipple, causing little electric surges in each one. My wrist is lightly draped over your shoulder. Every time I try to become a more active participant, to catch a feel of a soft 36D, it is gently replaced and you move back to the top of my chest and start working down all over. This is worse than being tied up, much more agonizing, but sexy as hell.
Off come my jeans and boxers with a single fluid motion. You move in closer between my legs, reaching up for a lingering kiss, pulling my head into yours. I am rock solid against your stomach, caught between us as you grind your torso into mine. You place your hands on my thighs and move down again, stopping mid-way down. You lean back a little, taking a tit in each hand, massaging them and bringing them to full attention (you know I love to watch you do that). You move in closer, and place my cock between them, pressing them together and pinching your own nipples at the same time. As you move up and down, your eyes locked in with mine. You know how good this feels. You allow me to remove the rest of your blouse, sliding it off your shoulders. After a minute or so of your ministrations, you break our gaze, look down and begin flicking your tongue over the head as it comes out the top of your breasts, taking just a little more each time. I have one hand intertwined in your hair, the other is holding on to the edge of the truck so I don't fall off.
After a few minutes, your knees must be tired, because you sit on the truck floor, still between my legs, the point of your boot rubbing against my bare calf. You lift your wine glass, taking a drink and shaking out your hair. I sit very still in anticipation for your next move. You dip a long finger into the wine, and begin to paint my cock with it. It's a little cold, but it is replaced by the warmth of your tongue, as you lick it off. You repeat, covering me again with wine, licking and sucking every inch until it's clean, your tongue knowing where all the most sensitive spots are and giving them special attention. Finally, you engulf me, with deep, slow strokes, sucking from base to tip, your tongue curling around actively as you move up and down the shaft.
I lean back, and the stars wink happily at me. I laugh to myself as I contemplate the metamorphosis of the day: six hours ago, you were covered in dust and dirt, an ass-kicking champion rodeo roper, then you became a lady, dressed to the nines, clean and soft, transformed by moonlight into an angel, taking me to heaven. The increased pressure with the flat part of your tongue sends a shiver up my spine, and confirms my assessment.
You can feel as my hips involuntarily begin to dance against you, and you retreat. Not time for that yet. You stand up, magnificent breasts in the moonlight, and pull me to my feet. You walk over to the cab, and I lift you and sit you on the roof. We kiss passionately, holding, searching, rubbing, groping. You turn your head to the side and I run my tongue all the way from your earlobe to your collarbone, sucking and kissing the soft skin of your neck, knowing it drives you wild. I can hear you breathing heavier. You wrap one leg around me and pull me close. As I blow in your ear, I run my hand around your denim hips and up your leg....Hello, you're not wearing panties under that cute skirt. Naughty girl! No panties, no bra - I'm beginning to think you may have planned this.
I push you back, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, throwing your head back and whipping your long red hair around. Lick and a whisper in your ear: "I want to make you........ scream." You shiver and giggle.
From your chin, I move down your throat - kisses with a little tongue and a touch of nibble. I begin kissing my way down your body, stopping whenever you giggle or squirm. I finally reach the valley between your cleavage. I press them together with my hands, and turn my attention to each in turn, swirling my tongue around each nipple, closing my lips around them and pulling them taut. I move down further. Your stomach is very ticklish! But I nuzzle and lick my way down further.
I am now faced with a decision - rip your skirt off, leaving you naked in the breeze, or leave it on, as just a little enticement, just a little bit more risqué. I opt for the latter.
I drop down low, almost to your knees. I run my hands up the backs of your legs, and squeeze your hot, tight ass. Your fingers are turning wild circles in my hair, urging me on. Then I begin to trace up the inside of your thighs, licking, kissing, and tickling as I go, until the frilly edge of your skirt completely covers my head. You put your boots on my shoulders, brushing my back with your heels.
I move in close, breathing in your wonderful scent, and exhaling hot breath onto your hotter pussy. You're legs fidget, and I feel a boot in the back of my head, pulling me in. I run the edge of my tongue along the creases of your legs, and softy over your lips. You probably can't hear me as I whisper things into your pussy, my lips against yours. I want to taste you. Lick, nibble. You are so hot. Kiss. You must be able to hear me, as both legs are now wrapped around my head, and I can hear your soft whimper through the denim.
With the broad flat of my tongue, I spread your lips apart. There is plenty of moisture already, so I don't need to add any extra wetness. I go to the bottom and lick up, stopping with only the lightest touch on your clit. Repeat as necessary (and encouraged), until I finally take your clit between my lips, suckling that hard jewel as I did your nipples. You moan and arch, singing out to the night. As I continue my attention, I slip a single forefinger into your moistness, crooking it slightly in a "come here" motion. I can't quite reach it, and you know it And you want it.
Reluctantly, you remove your legs and push me back. You stand and turn around, bending over the roof of the cab. How does that cold metal feel against you nipples? However, anything cold immediately warms with the heat you are giving off. You wiggle your ass at me, and I move back in. A single finger, soon joined by a second type on the inside wall off your abdomen. I find that certain spot, the wide fleshy one, and stroke it with my fingers, faster, harder, you're pushing back into my hand, trembling, shaking, cooing. "YES!"
I subsides and you're ready for more. "Ride me." I stand behind you. Even when you wear your boots, I'm still a little taller, and angle is everything. I place the tip of my cock at the entrance to your hot velvet. You push back again, and I fill you, deeper and deeper, slower and slower, inch by inch. I begin with easy slow strokes, but you have your own rhythm in mind. You begin to pound back into me, harder and harder until your feet are leaving the floor of the bed. Slamming, bucking. I figure the best thing I can do is stay very still, and let your motion carry you, but I'm afraid you'll knock me over. I grab a hold of the concho belt still around your waist and hang on, our hips thrusting in contrary motion. This is no eight second bull ride, but I'm holding on for dear life, letting your passion take us along. Scream it out into the night, baby, there's no-one to hear you but me. Faster, harder, tighter. I reach around to finger your clit, which really sets you bucking. Yesyesyesyes. Our bodies lock, tensed together. You scream your release loud and long into the night. In the distance, a coyote howls an answer back. We collapse into a heap of blissful exhaustion and laughter.