Pharr Flung (Well Hung) Tours

When Loria and I went back to our room to pack, I asked, "Did you notice Vance's pants right after he finished telling us about the erotic pussy-play encouraged at the Canyon?"

Loria smiled, "Of course. I think we all did. This could be a 'well hung' adventure if we play our cards right." I hummed in agreement.

*****

We left Albuquerque, driving north to Abiquiu. In the late afternoon Vance led a walking tour into the stark surrounding landscape of Plaza Blanca, a series of tall ghostly white cliffs rising from the river floodplain. The cliff walls were eerie and pale specters haunting the surrounding mountainsides of ochre, red and butter yellow. On the Plaza Blanca trail, Becky Raccoon twisted her ankle, or at least said she did and insisted that Vance carry her back to van. The contrived injury, which needed all of Vance's attention, irritated me as it shortened an interesting hike among enigmatic and other-worldly white cliffs. The other women were incensed that Becky Raccoon had sucked up all of Vance's attention with her ploy.

We checked in early at the local inn. Becky Raccoon insisted that she be helped to her room by no one other than Vance. She was too pained to make it down to dinner. Becky Raccoon made Vance promise to bring her evening meal up to her room where she had retired to her bed. Her motives were as transparent as her negligee.

The kitchen staff dished up a meal for transport to the stricken woman recovering upstairs. Vance, good to his word, carried the supper dishes to Becky Raccoon's room where she'd fallen into a swoon as a way to get a leg up on her rivals.

Becky Raccoon was thinking of sin as Vance walked in to find her reclining in a diaphanous gown. "Hey Vance Pharr. Thank you for taking such good care of me. C'mon over here. I'm hungry -- but not for what's in your hands, I want what's between your legs." While Vance bent over, placing the tray next to Becky Raccoon, she reached up between his legs, putting her palm on his crotch and drew him onto her bed. "Vance, I need you to inspect my injured ankle." Becky Raccoon bent her knee, tucking her heel against her inner thigh, "Please take a look and tell me what you see Vance." Vance succumbed to her erotic touch as he eased onto the bed as Becky continued to stroke his fly. The rigid root growing inside his shorts was the response she was anticipating. Vance's seduction was within her reach. She had beaten her rivals with her feminine wiles and now her prize was within her grasp. It was a solid, thick ram rod attached to a red-blooded American male. Becky Raccoon could feel her prize was a massive thing of beauty, a thing that would please any girl lucky enough to be in her position.

With one hand Becky scooted the hem of her negligee a little higher above her short-cropped pubic region as she encouraged the stiffening bulge rising beneath his khakis. Vance caught his breath, took a look at what Becky Raccoon was offering to show him, as well as her ankle. "Becky, it's only a scratch. You'll be better I'm sure, just as soon as I'm able to..." Becky seized his wrist and brought his hand up to her exposed breast; Vance groped her plump offering with his broad palm, rolling her stiff nipple between his fingers as he struggled to finish his sentence, "...clear the table."

Becky Raccoon whispered, "Please, I'm ravenous for you. I have to have your cock stuffed deep into me. I will grind on you while my tight pussy pulses and hugs your thick cock, drowning you in the sticky nectar of my Venus flytrap. You won't want to escape. I want to feel your girth expanding me, stretching me wide as you plunge that long dong of yours all the way up to my lungs. I am wet and I feel the heat spreading across my center. I need to be taken. I want your balls to slap my cunt as you slam me hard. I can sense when a man's consumed by a desire to be engulfed by a slippery, tight little pussy. Vance, I can sense you are there. You are going to fuck the daylights out of me and I'm going to love making you cum as you watch my big ol' tits bounce and dance before your eyes with every craving thrust that wallops my juicy cunt. Come eat me and have your way with me." She ripped the transparent pink fabric from her arched body, coiling herself into position and then striking at Vance's broad muscled chest with her pointed nipples like the fangs of a viper.

"I'm hotter than hell. I'm burning up with fever. I've never felt so burning hot as I do right now." Becky Raccoon pulled on the back of Vance's neck, he offered no resistance. His eyes were glazed over with lust as she lured her captured lover to her pussy. Becky thrust her hips making him kiss her pussy lips, dripping and glistening with pungent feminine desire. Becky swiveled her hip, pressing herself to his mouth, forcing him to extend his tongue, parting her swollen labia. The tip of Vance's tongue slid between her moisten slit with a strong thrust. Vance moved upward toward her clit with a slow, masterful stroke. Becky moaned, "I'm feeling so hot right now. I feel I'm about to burst into a fiery orgasm and be consumed by flames and smoldering passion. Take me away."

Becky Raccoon, lying on her back with her legs extended over Vance's shoulders, pleaded for Vance to finish her. Vance touched the tip of his tongue to her engorged and searing hot twat. His tongue struck the tip of her clit like he was striking a match head. The smoldering passion Becky had stored in her loins reached flash point. Becky Raccoon erupted like Vesuvius, volcanic sparks flew as she was ignited by his touch. Her pussy exploded in instantaneous passion. Her clitoris and her ass became red hot. The bedding burst into flames. The flames leapt to the curtains, spreading fire and smoke, engulfing the room. The fire suppression system was activated, dowsing the room with a torrent of water from the ceiling. The fire sprinklers matched the gush of fluids which Becky Raccoon squirted while in the throes of her explosive incendiary orgasm, firing out of her vagina like a rocket engine stuffed between her legs.

Vance, still clothed, raced to the door and held it open while Becky rolled out of the flaming love bed and made her way through the choking smoke. The pair raced down the corridor, Vance following as Becky Raccoon jogged with tits bouncing up and down, slapping her ribs with hardy thumps. The staff made us assemble outside, where we watched Vance and Becky with her elongated bouncing boobs stumble out to join us. Gray smoke billowed from the window as we waited for the volunteer fire department to arrive on the scene. Vance looked confused and a bit sheepish. Becky Raccoon was naked and still steamy hot with smoke wafting from her hair and steam rising off of her hot ass and fiery pussy as she viewed the scene of the sexual inferno.

Something inside Becky Raccoon must have snapped. She pivoted to look at all of us and bolted back to her room, not heeding the warning to stay outside. She emerged, wrapped in a cloud of smoke, holding nothing but Gideon's Bible. Gideon had left it no doubt to help with good Becky's revival.

We watched the firemen marshal to contain the blaze, not noticing that Becky Raccoon had begun walking up the road out of town. She walked alone, naked, carrying Gideon's Bible. We later heard that Becky was offered a ride by a Benedictine monk in a pickup truck on his way to Christ in the Desert Monastery; where I guess Becky Raccoon, after being burned out of her room, was led toward her revival.

We stood watching the fire truck drive away in the burning sunset. A coyote howled, it sounded like she was laughing; for reasons I could only guess.

***

Vance did his best to get his Pharr Flung Tour back on track after the fire. He made a few calls to some of his local contacts, explaining that he needed accommodations for his tour guests because of a fire in Abiquiu. He did not explain the cause of the fire, as that would be difficult to explain - on several levels. We packed up our belongings and rode into the sunset to a ranch owned by one of his friends who had offered to put us all up for the night.

Loria and I were the natural choice to share a bed in a spare bedroom. Our impromptu host offered his bed to Mirsa, while he chose to sleep on the living room couch. Natasha was given the last bedroom to herself, leaving Vance as the odd-man-out. Vance said that he slept well under the stars and he would borrow a couple of wool blankets and spend the night out beside the smoke house.

I stood to excuse myself and left the company to find my bed. Loria followed me to our room and shut the door behind her. I was undressed and asleep not many minutes after I snuggled under the heavy quilt. Loria lay next to me awake and listening. Loria shook my shoulder to awaken me, "Mer, did you hear that?"

In a groggy, in-between state of consciousness, I was aware of a question, but I was not sure how to respond. "Mer, did you just hear the kitchen door bang shut?"

"Dear god, no. Loria I was asleep. What's going on?" I mumbled in semi-conscious irritation.

"I think someone just slipped out the back kitchen door to jump Mr. Pharr's bones."

Now that Loria's suspicions were laid out; I sat up, curious to discover if her theory was correct. Had one of our sister travelers lost no time in having a go at her own personal well-hung adventure? My voyeuristic curiosity piqued, I asked Loria, "Give me the odds, Natasha or Mirsa? I say it's Mirsa who's always ready for a midnight ride. Ride 'em cowgirl or would it be reverse cowgirl?"

Loria dismissed my theory, "Nah, I suspect it's our honeytrap spy from the east. Mirsa is stuck inside the master bedroom with the jolly rancher camped outside her door. Mirsa's best shot at being plugged where it counts is to invite our jolly rancher back to his own bed after she's left her scent on the sheets."

Still favoring my personal suspicions that Mirsa was our secret midnight rider, "Maybe, our little heifer Mirsa seduced our host, and he ended up being lassoed and hog-tied while she stampeded out the kitchen door in high heat to grab Vance's pommel and ride him hard and put him away wet."

Loria shook her head, "That's crazy. I'm sure our little filly Mirsa abides by the Cowgirl Code of the West; a cock in your hand is worth two in your bush. No, she's not the kind of gal who'd pass up mounting the jolly rancher in order to chase after Mr. Pharr. She'll get it any way she can. She may not mind getting two hard woodpeckers poking her bush on a single night, but she won't miss an opportunity to be fucked by the first man standing, or lying on his back, depending on his preference."

We finished our debate, rising together from our bed, racing to open the louvered shutters to peek out into the moonlit landscape and see which of the two candidates was cheeky enough to hump our tour guide out in the open. Under the light of the moon we saw a lithe, willowy figure walk out of the shadows beneath the eaves of the smoke house and stand over a pile of blankets, under which Vance was likely thinking he was going to catch forty winks. "Shall we open the window so we can hear what's happening?" asked Loria.

"You mean like a peeping tomboy? You want to listen to Natasha squeak and moan as she crawls under those blankets, straddling our good looking specimen of American outdoorsman meat? Isn't that kind of perverse to secretly watch another couple fucking, especially if you wish it was you?"

"Yeah, of course it's pervy and voyeuristic. You're in aren't you?" chided Loria.

"Why, hell yes." We pressed toward the screen to see and hear all that our competition would do and say.

We watched the silhouetted figure crouch next to the form on the ground, seeing the outline of her unrestrained breasts moving fluidly, backlit against the light-colored desert ground. I was intimidated by Natasha's figure, tall, long-legged with a mane of thick, dark, mysterious hair that fell below her shoulders. I could not expect Vance to be able to resist this femme fatale descending upon him from the shadows. I expected my little 'summer fling' fantasy was soon to be revealed to be nothing more than that; a fantasy. I watched in disappointment as Natasha was about to swoop in and take what I'd hoped would be mine; it was more than disappointing, it hurt.

Loria whispered to me, "Look at her. I wish I had the confidence to move and swoop and catch a guy like that. For her it seems so damn sexy, so natural. For me, I'd trip and kick the poor guy in the teeth if I tried to act like Natasha."

Kneeling next to the sleeping man, Natasha slipped a hand under the blanket and touched his back. Vance did not seem to be alarmed. He shifted and raised the blanket up, inviting his late night guest to share his space and his warmth.

We could clearly hear their low voices in the crisp, desert night air. "Mister Vance, I have some worry with you. You are gentleman out in a place of bad desert things and you have been made to sleep on a hard and cold desert ground."

"Thank you for your worries Natasha, but I have been doing this for years, and the truth is that I enjoy sleeping outside on a moonlit, early summer night."

"But Mister Vance, this is not proper for a good man like you. I tell you a true thing from long ago in my country. In my country we are people that have idea that a man who is on journey is to be given every comfort as he travels far. It is important to my people to make offer of comfort to a man who makes journey. A man on journey can expect to have the comfort given by his host of daughter and even wife when he needs shelter. It is not permitted for him to sleep alone on the outside ground when woman with warm comfort is available for him. This is important tradition in my country. I will not permit you to have a night with wolfs and scorpions and bad snakes while I can give you warm comfort; comfort for all of the desires of a man. In my country there is many stories of people being eaten by wolfs. This outside is dangerous. My tradition demands that I must give to you myself for your pleasure."

I turned my head to Loria, speaking softly into her ear, "Do you think Vance believes all of that about the traditions in her country?"

"I don't know if he does or not, but I think he wants to believe it. What real man wouldn't?" she answered under her breath with a downcast, defeated tone in her voice.

Natasha shifted, positioning her tits next to his face. "My breasts are very warm for you. I will like to give them on your face. I think you will like to very much to begin with taste of my breasts with your lips and I would like to very much to give much warm comfort tonight. It is my tradition."

It sounded like Vance took up her invitation. Natasha again nudged closer while she made a moan, the sound of a woman surrendering herself to a man's appetite. Vance reached around to push her offering of a full, warm breast to his lips as he adjusted the blanket over his comfort companion. There was enough light to see that the pair under the blanket were moving in slow motion, becoming entwined with one another. Natasha threw a leg up and over her man's hips, making the pile of blankets wrinkle and fold as she appeared to be grinding on his thigh. Natasha was heard cooing and softly hissing as her passion built with the exploring touch of hands caressing her skin. His fingers undoubtedly beginning to probe and part her slit, now splayed open. Her extended legs invited Vance to stroke her wet crease, stoking her fire within her loins and causing her to melt at his touch. Her breaths became erratic, her serpentine grinding erotic, her chest heaved in the clutches of Vance's broad, rough hands. The slow grinding and thrusting of her abdomen made the blankets fall to the side, revealing the sexual action unfolding before us from our perch behind the shutters.

Loria and I knew from Natasha's sex sounds, her soft, low and long moans, she was primed for the taking by the well-hung target of her seduction. Natasha's moves, her positioning and audible moans and sighs were clues that she was ready to be hammered by her lover and smashed into orgasmic smithereens. She was ready to be taken. We could hear it and we could see it.

Vance rolled around behind Natasha and was beginning to unbutton his trousers as he fingered the sensitive rim of her succulent opening, preparing to take her from behind. Without a word, Natasha sensed the position Vance wanted. To provide Vance access to her pussy, she shifted to her belly and then rose up on her knees, supporting herself with her hands under her hanging tits. She spread her legs obediently in the stance her lover wanted, anticipating his initial sweet and slow penetration by his large cock, to be followed by the consuming ramming she was about to enjoy. Vance grabbed a fistful of hair off her bare back and pulled it back as if he was reining in a run-away brood mare. Vance was her stallion, with a cock to match. With a lusty tug on Natasha's flowing mane, her head snapped up, she opened her eyes for a second. That second was enough for her to realize that she was staring face-to-face with a pair of gleaming, yellow eyes of a beast not six feet in front of her.

Natasha's shrill scream of terror exploded out across the nocturnal desert landscape. Stunned by her scream, an abrupt disconnect from her cooing and lusty breathing of a moment before. Natasha was on her feet before Vance had his cock out. Natasha wheeled around her lover, leaving him kneeling in the dust of the desert floor. With arms flailing, boobs bouncing, ass and elbows flying, she left a trailing scream of "Wolf! Wolf!" in her wake as she beat it back to the safety of the kitchen door.

Mirsa, dressed in boy-shorts and a tank top was holding the door open for Natasha as she brushed past her into the security of the ranch house. Our host, awakened by the panicked screams of a woman coming from the back of his house, sprang off of his couch, grabbed a rifle and was running to investigate. Natasha rounded the corner out of the kitchen, running full frontal into our host, bouncing off of the rifle's stock and falling onto her ass with a loud smack on the adobe floor tiles, her massive tits pointing toward our host like a loaded double barrel shotgun. "Wolf!" She screamed from her immodest position.

Vance scuffled into the kitchen where Loria and I had gathered with the rest of the household. Our host leaned his rifle next to the refrigerator, removed a jar of picante sauce and the salt and pepper shakers from the dining table and pulled off the checkered tablecloth, offering it to the naked woman sitting on the floor of his kitchen. Natasha, with heavy breaths lifting her heavy breasts, pointed behind her, "Wolf."

The rancher, suppressing a smile, but not very well, took his eyes off of his night guest clothed in his finest culinary fashion and threw his gaze toward his friend Vance. "Coyote?"

"Yup," Vance replied with downcast eyes.

Mirsa maneuvered to Vance's side, slipping her arms around his biceps. We all stood around the kitchen and kept our silence. Our host offered his opinion, "I expect we would do best if we returned to our beds. I figure a few more hours sleep might do a body some good 'bout now." Nobody had anything else to say.

Except the coyotes, they were howling in the moonlight outside the kitchen window with what sounded to me like hysterical laughs. They howled and laughed for reasons I could only guess.

*****

Breakfast was early in the morning, which was fine, since nobody got all that much shuteye after the excitement of Natasha and the coyotes. Natasha was the last one out of her room, dressed in a modest, coarse cloth, bone colored dress that came to just above her knee. She returned the tablecloth to our host without a word on her way into the kitchen and then said she did not need breakfast this morning, and turned to go back to her room. Vance called after her, "Natasha, I think you'll want something to eat, as we will have a day of some moderately strenuous hiking at high elevations. I advise you get something in your stomach to provide some needed energy and add some weight to your bones."