Texas Trio Pt. 02 - Becky's Debt Ch. 23-24

It wasn't long before her arms were around his neck again, her upper body swaying as he teased her, describing circles which didn't quite touch the little nub where she so desperately needed his touch. She arched and curled, and he felt the liquid softening of her flesh against him.

When her gyrations increased, he moved his feet again, lifting his knees, and the head of his cock popped easily into her creamy little quim. Unwittingly, he groaned, and she froze, expecting agony. When no lashings of pain assaulted her, Becky shifted her hips, experimenting. Instead of torment, she discovered the sweeter torture of need, the burning desire for Brody to fill her, to soothe the empty space between her legs.

After spending so much time on horseback, Becky didn't bleed, but Brody could tell his penetration was uncomfortable for her. As much as he wanted to thrust deeply, to sheath himself in the heat that beckoned him forward, he resigned himself to patience. It was a mere matter of advance and retreat, loosening her as her wetness coated his aching flesh. He kept his mouth on some part of her body the whole time, kissing her, bending to suckle at the rosy tips of her soft breasts, nipping gently at her lobes.

After the first few minutes, Becky began to murmur and moan, the soft, nearly constant song of pleasure vibrating against his lips.

When Brody had embedded about two‑thirds of his cock inside her, he paused to run his thumb up over her clit, parting the folds more fully. Once, twice more he did it. When Becky began to pant and wiggle, he moved his thumb, slipped his index finger to the opposite side, and pinched gently, his fingers matching the tempo of his hips as he thrust deeply, impaling her. Becky shattered, her innermost muscles contracting as she twisted around him.

Brody moved his hands to her hips, trying to control her frantic struggles, but she was insensate, immersed in the maelstrom. He gave up on stopping her and guided her into a more effective rhythm. Her contractions slowed, but Becky never stopped moaning as she rode him, her eyes closed, her graceful neck arched.

His eyes fierce, Brody took in each quiver of emotion across her flushed cheeks, every wrinkle of her silky brow, each tiny pout. She was no longer hiding her passion but free to find her pleasure.

The tempo of her song changed and her features smoothed, taking on the intense, inward‑facing concentration of impending release. Brody's fingertips dented the pillowy roundness of her hips, his jaw clenching in the rhythm of her ride. He forced himself to gentle his grip even as his ribcage expanded, blood pounding in his temples, his cock swelling inside her. Becky's pussy was liquid fire, consuming him, so tight Brody thought he'd die when he came.

He held it and held it until he had no choice. He couldn't wait any longer for her. He yanked her hips down, brutally slamming into her core. Becky's mouth opened on a silent scream, and she held her breath for one long‑explosive moment, then she folded as though punched in the belly, Brody's hot cream bathing her inner walls as she came.

—:—:—:—:—

Lying under a bush upstream of the spot where Brody had emerged from the forest, Lemuel swallowed, his throat dry as he watched the woman, keeping the glasses glued to the tiny pink bud of her asshole, exposed by her position on the cowboy's lap.

He couldn't believe that piece of shit cowhand was stickin' it to Becky Connor. Women were half‑wits about a pretty face, though, no matter who was wearin' it.

He'd seen Becky strolling right into the trees today and guessed where she was going. It was just plain luck nobody had seen him tearing down the main track to the ranch and veering off just before the bridge. He was elated, thinking how he'd finally got her, and didn't even have to share her with Ernesto. Well, he'd probably fetch Ern out to the cabin after a couple days of plugging her himself, so he could follow the plan and pin Becky's death on the dumb shit.

He'd heard a splash as he dismounted, and crept from the trees just in time to see that damned cowboy poppin' up next to her.

When they were done fuckin', the cowboy had to hop bare‑assed back across the creek on some rocks, and Lem watched Becky's little titties as she giggled at him.

Ernesto had said she had tiny tits, and he was right about that. He'd been comparing them to Miz Connor's at the time. "I seen her in town just afore she whelped one a them little bastards of hers, and a blind man couldn't a'missed them titties, Lem, they was so goddamn big."

Ernie was right about that, too. Missus Connor's knockers doubled right up when she was carrying. Once, when Lem had been out for one of his late‑night rambles, he'd seen her half‑naked in the downstairs parlor, bold as you please, that half‑breed "husband" playin' with her big titties. He did nothing but suck and tweak on those hard nips for 'bout half an hour, and damned if she didn't come twice. Lem couldn't see the whole room through the slit in the drapes, but he could see Kendall's hands, and they hadn't been on her pussy when she started in to squealin'. Before Kendall slid his cock into the bitch, Lem had spilled his seed right on the side of their nice white house.

His hips shifted as he ground his hips against the loamy soil, cursing the cowboy.

Lem shook his head slightly, watching Becky bend over to pull her petticoat up. He got a fast glimpse of still‑wet pink and cursed to himself. He woulda bet money this bitch was the teasin' kind who wouldn't do it without a ring on her finger, but damn, he woulda been wrong. She was a slut just like her sister. He bet she'd like what he had planned for her.

Keeping his eye glued to the glasses so he could watch Becky dress, Lemuel lifted one hip and wriggled his hand down the front of his pants.

She'd made a bunch of little noises while that cowboy was plowing her, but she was gonna scream for him.

—:—:—:—:—

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WRITERLY TIDBIT/CONFESSION: I'm overly-self-critical and seldom completely satisfied with what I've written—a thought process I'm trying to outgrow—but I love this scene. I like how their attitudes reverse: Becky's near-panic becomes a deliberate surrender to her passion, while Brody's early mastery becomes a struggle to maintain control. To me, this scene is what I'm aiming for when I write erotica—the sex isn't just a physical act, but part of the characters' personal growth. The cool, shady swimming hole is also a real-life favorite of mine, and I hope I did a good job conveying the feeling of that setting. As always, thank you for any and all feedback!

--Stefanie

PS—We're about half-way through now—the book is 45 chapters, but the chapters are longer in the last half.