Mad Spaghetti Amazon Ch. 02

"There we go," the cowgirl grinned, crouching down to meet the Kid as he got out from under the truck and to his hands and knees. "Jeez, you're a little feller, ain't ya? How old are ya? You end up getting split up from your folks when those arseholes started chasing ya, honey?" With the slavers dispersed, the cowgirl took on a much kinder and sweeter tone for the Kid's sake, clearly assuming that he was, well, a kid. That was irritating. He wanted to snap at her over it, even though she had saved him.

It was hard to make himself do it, probably because parts of him were getting hard now that he was up close to her. He couldn't get his eyes off her immense rack; the cowgirl's nipples were pushing against the flannel shirt like they might burst through, and those damp spots only got larger and larger. They really were the biggest breasts he had ever seen before, impossible to ignore and begging for some kind of attention. The sort of attention that was incredibly inappropriate to give someone who had just saved your life. The sort of attention she certainly wouldn't let him give her as a kid. The sort of attention, honestly, that he shouldn't have been thinking about at all. Maybe the heat and exhaustion was getting to him.

"Kid? You shell shocked? You ain't got nothing to worry about now. Savvy Sharpes got you. C'mere," she said with a southern twang, reaching down to scoop her arms under the Kid's and pluck him off the ground. She was stronger than she looked, and she didn't look weak at all. He all but squawked at how she treated him; before he had a chance to make a more vocal objection, he was finding himself pressed into the bosom he had just been admiring. Her damp nipples were stiffer than they looked, but her tits were perfectly pillowy. She hugged him close, nothing but motherly assurances on her mind. "You're gonna be fine," she cooed as she began to pet his hair.

That snapped him out of his mammary driven stupor, at least. "I'm nineteen," he muttered, making a token effort to push away from her. As nice as her chest pillows felt, he didn't really want to get her leaking milk all over his sweaty, dirty mess of a shirt. He had known several enslaved women like her in the Avila-Cruz cactus farm; their huge racks were constantly full of milk, swelling with their arousal and leaking milk easier than one of the few docile cacti leaked water. They were prized human livestock for their rare but incredibly valuable mutation. Milk had so many uses. Not only did it quench thirst, it could be used to make incredibly valuable cheese, something few people in the desolate wastelands ever got to taste.

He had only tasted cheese once before. It was divine.

The Kid's father used to tell him stories that his father used to tell him, stories of animals called goats and cows that common people like themselves used to keep. Animals they could milk that they could turn into cheese, if they cared to, and use as they please in ridiculously decadent ways. He once went into their farmhouse's attic and came down with a 'fondue set' that people supposedly used to melt cheese in so they could dip bread in it. Outrageous, ridiculous things.

"Sure you are, honey," 'Savvy Sharpes' cooed as she squeezed him all the tighter to her chest, unaware of her milky tits or his wandering thoughts. "You're gonna be one day, and on that day you ain't gonna have to lie to keep yourself safe, don't you worry." She ruffled his hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp in a way that made him stop the ineffective shoving. "Now, you got any idea where your folks are? It's dangerous out here for a kid, and I reckon I oughta make sure those fuckers ain't just look for another poor fucker to go after." She slid her hand out of his hair and right down his back, then slipped it around his front only to dive down between her legs. "Yeah," she murmured a bit more throatily, and it took the Kid several shocked moments to realize what the cowgirl was doing with her fingers, wetly schlicking away at herself with her fingers down her jeans.

This woman was completely and utterly fucked up. He renewed his shove to get out of her now one-armed hug, grunting. "No, I'm being honest." It wasn't just concern for his shirt anymore. For her to get off on violence like that and to be so openly masturbating right after it, she must have been a psychopath. A hot, freckled, fit as fuck psychopath but a psychopath nonetheless. "I'm nineteen. I'm just-- small. Thank you for rescuing me but-- let go." There was no telling what would happen around here, and the only safe place for him to go now would be away from her. His father used to tell him that the only thing more dangerous than a psycho in the desert was a friendly psycho, because the lines of reality and fantasy were far too blurred for them to be reasoned with.

She squeezed him even tighter, chuckling under her breath. "Sure you are," she repeated merrily only to stop suddenly, her expression freezing over at something. "... You packin'?" she asked him just as abruptly, her wide green eyes narrowing in suspicion upon the Kid's face. "You little fucker, are you packin'? This some trap to capture the Lone Ranger? It is, ain't it. Be fuckin' honest now, or I'll break your legs and leave you to crawl back to your fuckers in Hiyooston," she threatened.

"Lady," the Kid growled back to her, feeling like a cornered animal. "If I had a gun, do you think I would have been in that situation to begin with? I just escaped from a--"

"Yeah, whatever," Savvy grunted, suddenly rising from her crouched position. She lifted the kid easily with one hand at the same time, her fingers sliding down to grab hold of his ass and secure his position while he squawked his agitation once more. "Ain't no point in asking, 'cause if you are a trap or bait or whatever the fuck it ain't like you're gonna tell me. Just gonna have to frisk your little ass." She carried him right up to the cab of the truck the slavers left behind, swinging the door open and plopping him right down on the stained llama leather seat.

"I'm telling you, I don't have a gun," the Kid protested before he had a sudden epiphany at what was really going on here. It wasn't that he had a weapon on him. She just assumed the worst of his erection, a boner that he himself had completely forgotten. It had been poking her belly just as her nipples were poking his chest and her breasts had been pillowing against it. "Wait--" he said, for some reason sure he could clear up this misunderstanding. Not twenty minutes ago, this woman had been his knight in shining armor.

Now she was aggressively patting him down from the body down, her graceful yet callused fingers sliding around his body to check for any suspicious lumps or bumps. "You ain't got any of those implants, do you?" she muttered, before just grabbing the hem of his shirt and starting to yank it up, up, and up. "Lift your arms or I swear, I'm just gonna rip this off you."

The Kid complied, face briefly hidden by his shirt as he complained at his would-be hero. "I don't even know who the fuck the Lone Ranger is, lady. Honest. This is my first time in the Land of the Free."

"Everyone knows who the Lone Ranger is. The most famous fuckin' cowboy of all time and the protector of the Texas That Was," Savvy grumbled as she tossed his shirt over her shoulder, taking a moment to pat over his body again. She hefted his arm and made a point of checking under them as well, her brows knitting as she took in the hair decorating his armpits. "Huh. How old you say you were, kid? Twelve or somethin'?"

Now the Kid was getting flustered. "Nineteen. Can you just-- mierda, I don't have a gun. Where the fuck would I keep a gun?" He already knew where she was going to end up sooner than later. This really wasn't what he expected to go down in the Land of the Free.

"Ain't you go cussin'. I speak the same Spanglish you do, cono." Everyone in Old-Old Mexico and the Lone Star Region did. She checked around his waist with a few more pats, then peeled away his makeshift rope belt and began to tug and yank at his pants. "Where I'm from, we take a kid over our knee for that kind of language and we ain't let them up 'till they're howlin' forgiveness from... oh, fuck. That's a gun, alright."

The Kid was a small man, sure, but his cock was perfectly average for a grown man. It looked downright gigantic between his scrawny legs, stiff as a tungsten rod from god after all the squeezing by the psycho cowgirl, nevermind her patting and careless exploration of his body in search for his weapon. "That's not a fucking gun," he retorted quickly, blushing in earnest now as he shot a hand down to grab his pants and try to yoink them back up. His other went to cover his exposed genitals before she tried to disarm him.

"Nope," Savvy said with a low whistle, grabbing one of his wrists and then the other. She managed to secure them both in her hand and push them both against his belly, exposing him to her once more. "That is definitely a fuckin' gun. Not even a fuckin' pistol, that's a right proper rifle you got there. Ain't bad at all, little guy." She squinted down at him -- all of him, cock, balls and hair included. "Maybe you ain't a kid after all," she admitted after a moment's pause. "Nineteen or so, is that what you said?" she asked before wetting her full lips, near as pillowy as her rack albeit in a much different way.

"Y-yeah?" The Kid didn't like the look in her face. She wasn't flushed before, not even when she was openly masturbating with him squeezed in against her. He certainly didn't like where this was going. While the Kid wasn't a virgin, his father had imparted an important creed to his son and made sure he understood it many a year ago: never, ever stick your dick in crazy. Not unless it was life and death, and even then try not to because crazy had a good way of fucking you over in surprising ways.

When his father told him that, he meant because of kids. Procreation. Responsibilities. A psycho, milky-titted cowgirl was probably the furthest thing from his mind, but here his son was.

"Huh." Savvy stared at his cock for a moment longer, then reached behind herself to fumble something out of the fanny pack he hadn't noticed she wore before. He hadn't noticed her belt buckle either; it was some of the finest silver the Kid had ever seen, enameled with the same Lone Star symbol she had worn on her late hat, god rest its leathery soul. While he didn't recognize the black plastic cord she took out of the waistbag, he did understand its purpose well enough when she zipped it around his wrists like makeshift handcuffs. "I gotta make sure you ain't one of those machiboy fuckers, packin' real heat in their rifle. If you know what I mean," she added with an eager grin, meeting the Kid's brown eyes with her green ones.

He stared at her blankly. "The fuck is a machiboy?" Of course, there were more pressing matters at hand for both Savvy and the Kid. "I swear, that's really just my--"

"Your cock. I hear ya, I hear ya, now shut the fuck up so I can make sure you pass muster," Savvy drawled back, quickly unbuttoning her flannel shirt and opening it just enough that she could unhook the strangest bra the Kid had ever seen, all black lace. It was the kind of thing he only ever saw in the ancient Sares Catalogue that his local library held, a relic of a bygone age. Her small mountains spilled out, sheening with the shine of the milk already smeared across them, with more leaking out of her impressively engorged pink nipples. Those reminded him of something else he had seen in the library's museum, one of its most precious exhibits kept in a glass case: the eraser at the bottom of a #2 pencil.

The Kid squirmed on the seat, lifting his ziptied wrists awkwardly as Savvy stared at his cock. For what felt like an eternity, she just touched herself, caressing her rack and tweaking her nipples between her fingers while she stared at it, the eager look in her eyes only mounting. He wanted to look away, to stare out at the landscape and wait for her to get this over with, but he couldn't get his gaze away from her. Particularly not when she slid one hand down over her ripped abs and to her waist, unbuttoning her jeans and almost tearing them down over the thick curve of her ass.

Her panties matched her strange bra, though when she pulled those down her thighs he was surprised to see she didn't have so much as a hair on her soaked pussy. That was rare. There wasn't even a hint of blonde stubble on her. She dropped both her bottoms down to the top of her boots, then crouched down, taking hold of his cock and staring at it for several moments with slightly parted lips.

"What a nice rifle," she finally cooed, the eagerness on her face cut with a growing glee. "Ain't nothing like what I would have expected to find around here, you know." She slowly grinned, scooting in close to the Kid's stiff cock, sliding her fingers down to his base and resting it along her nose as she peered up at his face from either side of it. Frankly, she looked a little ridiculous. "All the pieces I end up findin' around here got somethin' wrong with them. Never end up getting a proper barrel like this one," she drawled. Leaving his cock against her face, she trailed her fingers down to his sack, running the pad of one finger over the wrinkled skin there. "And such a nice stock, too. Would ya look at that woodgrain," she almost purred.

The Kid closed his eyes and whimpered, hoping she wasn't the kind of psycho who really, really liked the taste of meat. He had heard a lot of horror stories about 'cannivamps', psycho women who wandered the desert looking for a good cock to suck and a nice--

The feeling of Savvy's long tongue slowly and wetly laving its way over the Kid's nuts killed that thought off quickly. He bit back on his groan and opened his eyes to look back down at the powerful blonde crouched before him, giving his low-hanging fruit a thorough tongue bath like a cat grooming another, careless for rigors of the road that he would have thought would make such a lewd act difficult to contemplate, let alone do without reservation. Her licking continued unabated as her fingers found his shaft again, starting to slowly stroke the Kid's cock in time with her tongue's movements. It was already better than any sex he had ever had before.

It only got better when she parted her plush lips and took one of his balls into her mouth, sucking on it like a little piece of candied cactus. "Fuck," he grunted out, already feeling ready to pop in the (literal) face of his would-be hero's casual, impromptu violation. He finally looked to her eyes, finding them rapt on his face and incredibly smug. Suddenly finding himself irritated, he resolved to make her work for it if she wanted him to cum and bit back all the harder at his groaning -- once again literally. He tasted a bit of blood on the inside of his cheek.

She switched between his balls, leaving one damp and exposed to the warm air while she worked on the other; her fingers were surprisingly gentle in how they handled his delicate equipment. That was a small surprise, considering how crass, rough and violent she had been since made her presence known with that first shot. The Kid curled his toes in his worn down shoes, kicking their heels back against the truck's chassis; he'd do anything to distract himself from how fucking great her wet, warm mouth felt around his balls. With his wrists tied tight, there wasn't much he could do in that regard. He started pinching his fingers, bending and stressing them. He also tried some negative reinforcement. "This-- this isn't doing shit for me, you big-titty bimbo," he managed to spit out coherently, albeit lapsing more into the Spanish part of Spanglish.

"Ain't it?" Savvy asked, popping her lips off him audibly and leaning back, abandoning his balls for the moment as his cock poked up at her face. She grinned like a cat with a mouse, taking hold of his shaft's base once more. "You know what we do with liars out here in Lone Star, kiddo?" she wondered as she lowered her lovely face once more, tapping his cock's crown against her cheek rhythmically as she gazed up at him through her pale lashes. "C'mon, take a guess," she teased. "Or does somethin' got your cock caught between its--"

"I'm not a kid," the Kid growled out quickly, not wanting her to finish that expression at all. His frustration was growing, but his good sense was fading with each passing moment. He was increasingly aware of just how much he wanted to get his hands on the cowgirl's head and teach her a lesson with a thorough face-fucking, his balls clapping away at her chin until she ceded to him, and he was irrationally sure that she would cede. What good sense he had left told him he couldn't get away with that. He had few options to retaliate.

One occurred to him. His good sense didn't kick in. "Whatever you say, partner," the cowgirl almost giggled, and in that moment he had quite enough of her shit. He stopped biting his cheek and before she had a moment to do aught else, his rifle fired what heat it was definitely packing. Savvy gasped as the first rope of his thick hot cum splashed on her fair face and then laughed at him, delighted.

It was ridiculous for him to be trying to flex his pelvic muscles to aim where he fired, but the Kid was beyond thinking at this point. He tried and he failed, but sheer recoil -- or maybe just the way she moved her hand in surprise after getting her cumshot so abruptly -- made sure one of his several pent-up shots went exactly where he wanted it to. Her delighted laughter gave way to a small shriek when the Kid's cum hit her eye, stinging it and leaving its slimy vestiges sticking to her eyelashes. "Fuck! You little fuckin' asshole, it's--!"

The Kid couldn't hear her in his smug afterglow, having no regrets all in his post-nut clarity. No regrets for at least ten golden seconds that made whatever came next so very worth it. He saw something in the edge of his vision and looked up from her face, focusing in on it with a small frown. It took narrowing his eyes to make out what was coming their way. As she sputtered and cussed him out, he was already starting to panic. "Oh, fucking mierda."

When the Kid was a child, his father told him so many stories about his grandfather's day. The common man owning goats and cows and being able to make their own cheese was somehow less ridiculous than the common chicken. A feathered, grounded bird that was so small you could pick it up in one hand, but had lovely meat that tasted like 'everything'. The females would lay a daily bounty of small eggs, which could be easily cooked in a single pan.

The only reason he believed cows were real was because the idea of cowboys and cowgirls persisted long after their extinction. The common chicken was supposedly the ancestor of bull and doe brushcocks, four-legged feathered terrors. Tall as an average sized man and almost triple the weight of one, brushcocks could be tamed and used to travel the desert quickly and far more quietly than any vehicle, provided one could afford to keep them fed and watered. If you couldn't, they were not shy about turning on their riders and tearing them apart with their sharp beaks or sharper claws.

The wild ones didn't give humans a chance to feed them, having learned that small groups of humans were often quick and easy meals who came with their own dessert. The one charging at them now had the Kid's burlap sack stuck around its neck somehow, having apparently tracked him across the border. Both he and Savvy had their pants around their ankles; his wrists were restrained and she was practically blind with cum in her eye and a healthy dose of rage, unaware of the threat.