Rhiannon

'Are you here with Michael?' Alan asks her.

Mel nods. 'Date night. We've already run out of things to talk about.'

'Mel and Michael have a horse stud,' Alan tells me.

'Work together, live together, do everything together,' Melinda explains. 'I love the arsehole, but it gets boring.'

We end up having dinner together. Melinda tells me everything there is to know about Alan. He works long hours but he's very good at what he does. He has a house over at Kingsthorpe that he bought when he was in his early twenties but because he's always lived on the farms he's worked at, it's always been tenanted. He has no children, no ex-wives, no great scandals to his name.

When Alan is in the bathroom, she asks me what I want from him. I just stare at her mutely, not wanting to say 'sex'. Thankfully her husband nudges her and tells her to mind her own business thus saving me from having to rummage up an answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

'I'm sorry about that,' Alan apologises as he drives me back to my apartment. 'Mel. I had no idea she'd be there.'

'It's okay. She set my mind at ease. Any doubts I had about you being a homicidal lunatic are now vanquished.'

He laughs. 'I'm not that.'

He stops on the way back at a look-out. We're on the edge of Toowoomba and it's as if we're staring down into a large bowl of lights. The night sky is dark and warm, and he's not making any move to kiss me, or do any of the things men normally do when they're trying to seduce a woman. Rather, it's as if he's taking me on a sight-seeing expedition.

An awful thought occurs to me. What if he doesn't want to fuck me? What if I've said or done something that he finds repulsive? What if seeing Melinda has reminded him of how much he loved her? I don't know. I glance over and see him typing something into his phone. Great. Fucking great. I want to fuck him, and he wants to act like a tour guide, text his mates, and take me back home.

He realises I'm staring at him and glances up. 'Give me a second,' he apologises with a smile. 'One of the farm labourers has been taken to hospital. Appendicitis. He's just letting me know he won't be in this week.'

When he's finished with his message, I take his hand as casually as I can. He gets the hint and pulls me close. His body is lean and hard and his clothing feels crisp beneath my fingers. He feels broader and stronger than I remember men to be, but as I hold him, it all starts coming back to me. The way they smell. The way they feel. The prickly feel of their faces before they've had their morning shave.

I trace my fingers along the back of his newly-shorn hair and breathe in his scent. He's one nice piece of arse and when he presses his lips to mine, I learn he's also a bloody good kisser. There's a few seconds of awkward fumbling as we find our rhythm, but I'm soon enjoying the way his tongue pushes against mine, and his rough hands cup my face.

He breaks the kiss and stares into my eyes. 'You're so beautiful,' he remarks, his eyes heavy with lust. 'Just so beautiful.'

The sincerity in his tone leaves me feeling exposed. Too much time with someone like him and I'd let my guard down, and that's not something I'm prepared to do again. I avert my gaze and mutter something stupid about him not being half bad, either.

Alan brushes my hair off my neck and nibbles the skin he's uncovered, sending shivers down my spine. I'm hot and damp between my legs, and I can hear myself moaning softly as his mouth traverses my neck, my décolletage and down to my chest. After a night spent trying to avoid staring at my breasts, he's now relinquished any sense of self control. As we stand on the side of the road he kisses and gently bites the exposed flesh, turning my covered nipples into hard little peaks that press against the fabric of my dress, begging him to keep going.

Another car pulls into the look-out parking space and Alan immediately stands up. The spell is broken. He tries to subtly readjust his pants, and I cheekily place my hands over his. I need to check that he's struggling with an eager prick, and not just a run-of-the-mill wedgie. I'm not taking a man home only to spend my evening cooing and sucking and pleading with his cock to get hard. I want someone who's ready to go.

'Stop that,' he requests, embarrassed. 'You'll only make it worse, and I'm trying to behave.'

I run a hand against the bulge in his pants. It's definitely his cock that's causing him discomfort. 'I don't want you to behave. I want you to come back to the apartment with me.'

He laughs awkwardly, not knowing what to do about my wandering hands. He pulls them away, holding me by the wrists. 'Rhi, you don't have to.'

'What if I want to?' I demand, raising my eyebrows. 'Who's to say I didn't have a really good evening, and who's to say I think it'll get even better if you come back with me?'

This time his laugh is more husky than awkward. 'Now how am I supposed to get rid of this?' he asks, glancing down at his crotch. 'I'll be hard all the way back.'

I kiss him. 'Hot,' I whisper, breaking free of his grip and discreetly rubbing his crotch again. 'Let's get going. I can't wait to fuck you.'

He doesn't seem to quite believe what's happening. On the way to my apartment he asks if I'm a prostitute, and when I start laughing out loud at the suggestion, he laughs with me and points out that he wasn't expecting an invitation to come back with me, that's all. He didn't mean to insinuate anything untoward.

'I'm flattered you think I could be a working girl,' I tell him. 'But I don't quite think I have the looks for that.'

'You look pretty good to me,' he replies, glancing over. This time his gaze hovers for just a split second on my chest. 'Though I can't say I actually know what a prostitute looks like.'

'Never tried one out?' I ask.

He shakes his head. 'No.' He reaches over and rubs my leg. 'You're cute, really cute. And I'm glad to hear you're not a hooker. I'd hate to think of the bill I'd have racked up by now if you were.'

That makes me laugh. His hand slips between my thighs and edges it's way upwards, but stops a few inches short of my pussy. He's horny, really horny, and now that he's been reassured that this is legitimate, and that I'm not after money, and that I'm keen for some action, he's becoming more sexually aggressive. Good. I want a nice, hard fuck by someone who's enjoying the experience, not a hesitant, cautious, feeble coupling. I want him to make me feel like a fuck toy. I want him to use me to meet his needs.

We arrive at the apartments, and in the elevator on the way to my room, he lifts up my dress and gropes my rear, massaging a fleshy cheek in each hand. When we arrive at our floor, we basically fall into the hallway, and stumble down to the room, unable to keep our hands off each other.

The door to the apartment is barely shut before my dress is discarded, and I'm standing before him in my underwear. Erect nipples the size of bullets point through my bra and the gusset of my panties is soaked. He sucks on my tits through the lacy material, while I do my best to undress him.

His shirt is thrown onto the kitchen benchtop, and I catch sight of the tattoo Melinda was talking about. It's old and green and faded, a memory from a youth that's long past and a love that's long gone. He has a farmer's tan, and a smattering of dark blond hair on his chest, and more on his belly, leading downwards.

I'm trying to undress him, while he's trying to stay attached to my tits. We're both desperate for more, but I'm more forceful, and he's soon helping me unbuckle his belt, and lower his jeans. The front of his briefs are spotted with precum, and his cock juts out proudly, letting me know it's ready for duty. The skin on his shaft is silky soft, beautiful to touch, and yet he's so engorged it's like a lump of steel.

I fall to my knees and take him into my mouth. I can hear him groaning as my tongue swirls around the crown of his cock, and dives into the slit at the front, lapping up the salty drops.

'Stop,' he begs. 'Oh fuck, Rhi, stop.'

Instead of stopping, I fondle his balls, rolling them around my hand like two ripe, prize, fruit. Heavy with cum, but not yet tight and indicating release is imminent. He has nothing to worry about. I won't take this too far; I want to feel this nice, hard cock of his inside me tonight.

'Rhiannon,' he gasps, his hands on my shoulders. 'Oh fuck.'

I glance up at him, my mouth full of his length. He shudders with lust and pulls me away. His cock falls from my mouth with a wet pop, and he kicks off his shoes and jeans and briefs, before picking me up and carrying me into the bedroom.

His muscles are taut under the strain as places me on the bed. His sexual aggression is back, and he tears my underwear free, leaving me entirely naked and exposed. He hungrily drinks in my nude form as I stare wantonly up at him, offering my body up to him. Take me. Fuck me. Own me.

Alan kisses me, before turning his attention to my tits, sucking each one in turn. I writhe and gasp beneath him, wanting more. His mouth moves lower, to my belly, and then to my thighs. He kneels between my legs and parts my labia, tracing his tongue over my womanhood. His hot breath excites me, and I can almost feel how much he's enjoying this.

I grip his hair in my hands and thrust into his face. I'm dripping, leaving him covered in my juices, but I don't care. I've waited so long for this that nothing's going to stop me. My body is tingling and I'm getting more and more aroused with each flick of his tongue.

'Now it's your turn to stop,' I groan, realising I'm on the cusp of orgasm. 'Alan...'

Unlike me, he listens. He props himself up on one elbow and gazes up at me. His dark brown-black eyes are serious, even though his hair is messed up and his eyes are hooded with lust. 'Rhi?'

'What?' I groan, sensing he's about to start talking to me.

'What do you want from me?'

'What do you think?' I gasp in a strangled tone. 'I want you to fuck me.'

He casually slips a couple of fingers inside my channel and seeks out the sweet spot. 'You came all the way out here for a fuck with a stranger?' he asks.

'Of course.'

'But what if I'd disappointed you? What if I wasn't what you wanted?'

'But you are,' I mutter hoarsely, grinding down on his fingers. 'You're exactly what I wanted.'

His laughs huskily. 'You dirty, horny little thing.'

'Stop talking and fuck me.'

He raises his eyebrows at me. 'Stop talking?'

'Yes,' I hiss. 'Or I'll suck that cock of yours until you're begging me to stop. Don't pretend for a second you don't want this as much as I do.'

The expression on his face is one of sheer amusement. Indignant, I push him onto his back and crouch between his legs. I take his erection into my mouth once more, one hand working the shaft and the other on his balls.

It doesn't take long for him to change his tune.

'Okay... point taken... I'm sorry,' he gasps. 'I admit... I'm just as...bad as... oh fuck...'

I stop, kneel, and grin at him. 'Say 'sorry'.'

He laughs guiltily. 'Sorry,' he apologies, holding his hands up in a show of surrender. 'You... I've never met anyone like you before.'

'You're my first cowboy,' I agree, rummaging around in the bedside drawer for a condom. There are only two items in the drawer, a telephone directory and a condom, but guess which one has slid to the front? Eventually my fingers close over the little foil packet, and I tear it open with my teeth. 'Here we go.'

Together we roll the condom over his erection, and I throw one leg over him and lower myself onto his cock. Oh fuck, he's so goddamn hard and he feels so unspeakably good. A groan escapes me, a noise that's so primal and bestial in nature that if I wasn't so aroused, I'd be ashamed by it.

'That's it,' he whispers encouragingly, his hands gripping my hips. 'Fuck me.'

The lights are on and normally I'd be embarrassed, but tonight I'm not. I want to see him. I want to watch the expressions on his face, and admire his body.

I stroke his face, and lean down to kiss him. Affection in the middle of casual sex, not something I'd normally offer, but I like Alan. He's a good man, the sort who'll make some woman very happy one day.

Alan returns the affection, touching my hair and face, and pressing his lips against mine. 'You feel so good,' he mutters. 'So soft.'

I give him one last kiss before sliding back into my preferred position and starting to gyrate. His hands are again on my hips, guiding me, but he lets me take the lead. He's not selfish, this one, he's happy to let me take the reins.

I'm wet, so wet, and I can hear the sound of his cock sliding in and out of me. The sounds combine with the scent of condom, and his deodorant and musky male odor, and my pace quickens. I move his hands to my breasts, but he doesn't need to be forced to play with them. He eagerly toys with the nipples, and he begins to thrust in time with my movements.

He tips me into an abyss of pleasure and I scream out his name as I shamelessly ride him, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as I finally get the relief I need. I can barely contain myself, the feelings are so intense. It's been a long time since a man has managed to make me cum so hard.

I'm enjoying the last few pulses of orgasm when he shifts my position slightly, pulls me forward and directs a breast into his mouth. The other hits the side of his head, and with a muffled groan he grabs my arse and pumps me up and down. He's done a damn fine job of holding on and waiting for me, but any vestiges of self control have now left.

His back arches off the bed and he thrusts viciously into my wet pussy, unleashing his load. All of the muscles and tendons in his arms and chest are tight, and his eyes have rolled back. He's almost smothered by my tits, but from the expression on his face, it's exactly what he wants.

Eventually he falls limp beneath me, and it's only then that I realise what a firm grip he had one me during his climax. My breast is bruised and my arse is tender. Maybe he knows he's been rough, because he pulls me down for a kiss, his hands running through my hair as his tongue dancing against mine.

I pull back a little and we both smile and chuckle in post-orgasmic bliss. I think it was better than either of us could have expected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We lie together in bed, his body spooning mine, his hot breath on the back of my neck. We're safely ensconced in post-coital bliss. It's as if nothing else matters outside this bedroom, outside this apartment. It's just Alan and I, talking and laughing softly.

'You have a really nice voice,' I remark, pulling his hand up so that it's resting between my breasts. The skin on his hands is rough and calloused and now that my lust is sated, I've noticed his hands are more darkly tanned than his arms. A mitten tan, I guess you could call it. He's obviously been wearing a long-sleeved shirt at work recently.

'You have a really nice everything.'

I giggle at that. 'I think you're biased.'

'No, I just know that I like what I'm looking at.' He gently nibbles the back of my neck. 'Your skin's so soft, Rhi.' He pauses. 'Your name; Rhiannon. Are you named after the song?'

I normally fucking hate this question. Yes, I'm named after the goddamn song. Yes, my parents are massive Fleetwood Mac fans. No, I don't want to hear about Stevie Nicks' life history, it's my parents who like her, not me. But Alan's question doesn't bother me, and I confirm that yes, I am named after the song.

'Do you like the song?' he asks.

'I used to hate it. I think it was just because I was sick of people singing it to me. But it was a focus of one of the seasons of American Horror Story, and it made me look at it in a new light.'

'What's American Horror Story? A TV show?'

'Oh my God, Alan,' I laugh. 'Good thing you didn't admit to not knowing what it was before I decided to sleep with you. I might have made a different decision otherwise.'

He joins in the laughter. 'And if I'd tried to sing it to you? Would I definitely have been out of luck?'

I kick his foot gently with mine. 'You'd bloody want to have done a good job of it, if you did. Maybe if people could sing it a bit better I would have liked it earlier on.'

'Okay, let me have a go,' he offers, sitting up and clearing his throat. 'Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn't you love to love her? Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and who will be her lover?'

He can sing, and by that I mean, he can really sing. He's not mimicking Stevie, he's taking the lyrics and making them his own.

'Wow,' I remark. 'I stand corrected. If you'd sung that to me earlier I probably would have raped you where you stood.'

'Damn. What a missed opportunity. I've never been raped before.'

Oh God, we have no class whatsoever, do we? Why are we making these jokes, and why are we laughing at them, and why, oh God why, is he lying down again and nibbling my neck and my shoulders and my back? Why is he turning me over, onto my back, and kissing me?

I reach up towards him like a sunflower to the sky, seeking his warmth. His skin is showing the signs of age; there are wrinkles around his eyes and between them, and his back is somewhat leathery, but his cock is like that of a young man, already hard as steel and ready to go again. And I, too, am ready for more, the orgasm I had an hour ago now nothing but a sweet memory.

Alan turns his attentions to my breasts, gently fondling them for my pleasure, and burying his face in between them for his. Then he's moving down to my belly and thighs and for the second time that evening, he's lying with his face between my legs.

I cleaned up a little after sex, but I'm still left wondering if he's picking up the lingering taste of latex from the condom he used. If he does, it doesn't seem to bother him. He suckles my clit, drawing it gently into my mouth, before kneading it with his tongue.

'Don't stop, don't change a thing,' I gasp, reaching above me and grabbing the headboard. My legs are spread, and my feet are resting on his back. 'Oh shit. Alan.'

Earlier in the evening, when I asked him to stop with the oral, he did, and now, when I tell him how to continue, he listens. This is a man who understands women. One who know when to take advice and instruction.

My orgasm catches me by surprise and I clutch at his head and draw him in, crying out into the night as he takes me to climax for a second time. My thighs are taught, my noises desperate, and I can feel how much of my juices I've left on him. When my orgasm subsides I'm left whimpering with pleasure, and I pull him up for a hug.

His face is slick with my liquid, but he uses the back of a hand to wipe the worst of it away before tenderly kissing me.

'Um, wow,' I laugh, emotionally shattered. 'That was great.'

His eyes light up. 'Good.'

His cock is pressing against my soft, fleshy thigh, reminding me that he's turned on and ready to go. I reach down and touch it, amazed again at how hard he gets.

'I was wondering if I could ask you something,' he begins, burying his face in my neck. 'Could I maybe take you into the shower and soap you up?'

It's a reasonable request. I've come to Toowoomba for no reason other than to fuck him, and he no doubt feels that now is the time to ask for me to fulfil one of his little fantasies. And, as far as quirks go, it's harmless and rather sweet.

'Sure,' I agree. 'Should we take a condom with us?'

He nods. 'Please.'

I let him live out his little fantasy. The water is hot, my hair is tied up out of the way, and he pays particular attention to ensuring I'm nicely lathered. There are soapy bubbles on my breasts and belly and bum. From the expression on his face, the result is exactly what he imagined.