The Cottonwood Stud Ranch

The Cottonwood Stud Ranch

Part One

The summer sky was clear but for a few scudding wisps of cirrus clouds and sun-kissed fields of wheat swayed in a warm breeze. Everything was pretty and picturesque as a postcard, Liam had to admit.

...and he was lost as hell in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere.

In hindsight, the optimism with which he began the road trip from Los Angeles to Detroit was outright foolhardy. The prospect of a thirty-four-hour slog across the nation in his eleven-year-old Prius had seemed like small beans relative to the chance of pressing the reset button on an otherwise unremarkable existence in a new city with considerably lower property prices.

The glamor of LA had waned long ago for the middle-aged freelance app developer.

Toiling over reams of code all day and night--hunting for that next elusive Play Store hit--left no time for himself or any semblance of a personal life. He was barely scraping by on rent (which increased at every lease renewal) and the hellish traffic...

No, the City of Angels could kiss Liam's butt goodbye as he rode off into the sunset towards a brighter tomorrow.

Well, drove off, actually, with depressingly few belongings tumbling off the rear seat. The badly rutted backroads were punishing his hybrid's suspension.

He had tried to shave some distance off the interstate journey by traveling a more scenic route, taking the opportunity to explore less traveled paths and avoid the mind-numbing drudgery of navigating the busy highways.

Except now, Liam was prodding at his phone uselessly while dodging potholes somewhere on the ass-end of Kansas.

Cell service had dropped out several miles back, and in a final stroke of blind injustice, the GPS lost its signal with an informative blip.

"You've got to be shitting me. How do you lose a satellite connection?"

Swiping away the notification, he poked at the display map, not watching the road or noticing the sharp turn before it was too late.

________________

An hour later, Liam sat on the ground, nursing a goose egg swelling on his bruised temple.

His car was crumpled against a tree, the lightweight aluminum hood accordioned in on itself, and radiator leaking. At least nothing was on fire. No Hollywood eruption of flames consumed the last of his worldly possessions in a dramatic conflagration.

Just the spirit-crushing epiphany that he was well and truly fucked.

The screen on his phone was shattered, but it still functioned. Mostly. Zero bars of reception and not a soul for miles around. Was that why they called them "country miles?" Vast and empty except for the endless sea of grain and nary a sign of civilization beyond the strip of cracked asphalt winding through it.

"You really screwed the pooch this time, Liam"

Staggering to his feet with a groan, the rumble of an approaching engine cut through the funk of self-loathing as an olive green pick-up truck rounded the same corner he had missed, rolling to a stop a few feet away.

It was a classic dentside Ford, complete with a split grill, windshield visor, and the racing eagle stripe on the side. Slightly battered but serviceable. Bales of hay were tied down in the bed, and a decal of steer horns peeled in flakes off the bonnet.

A head of long blonde hair eased out the driver's side window, and brilliant blue eyes drank him in from under the brim of a white Stetson hat.

"You alright over there? Looks like you're in a spot of bother, stranger."

Liam almost wept with relief. Salvation had arrived in the form of a beautiful country girl, cowboy hat and all. He stumbled over to her, waving his busted phone like a signal beacon.

"Please, help me! I got lost on my way to Detroit and ran off the road. May I borrow your phone to call a tow?"

"Gee, Mister, I can see that. Detroit, you say? You've been blown well off course to wind up in these parts." She replied, glancing past Liam to his wrecked vehicle. "Don't have a fancy phone or nothing. They don't work too well out here anyhow."

"I--I think I learned that the hard way." His stomach dropped at the news. "Can you tell me how far is the nearest town?"

"That'd be Stockton in Rooks County. It's a three-hour drive away. Are you sure you ain't hurt? There's a doozy of a bump on your noggin."

Leaning against the truck for support, Liam got a closer view of his rescuer. She was startlingly pretty in a girl-next-door fashion. Definitely young with wide cerulean eyes, a cute button nose, and rosy cheeks framed by honey-colored locks flowing from beneath her wide-brimmed hat.

However, his attention was drawn to a droplet of summer sweat on the girl's neck. Fixating on it as it grew slowly larger, sliding down her slender neck and into the generous swell of cleavage constrained by a tied-off red flannel shirt.

"I, um... I'm fine... I think." He mumbled, suddenly tongue-tied and a little dizzy. "I need to get to Detroit... or to a phone at least. It's very important."

"You look paler than a sheet, Mister. Tell you what, I'll give you a lift to the homestead. It's only a short way off, and Miss Lily can take a gander at your melon." The blonde tapped at her temple, indicating the injured region. "She'll make sure you didn't knock any marbles loose in the crash. We'll get some hot grub in you, then decide where to go from there. That's the best I can offer."

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Liam nodded and climbed in the passenger side. The bench seat was surprisingly well-maintained, and the girl grinned merrily as he settled in with a boot-scooting squeak of ancient vinyl.

"Goodness, where are my manners?" she said, extending a small hand. "A girl shouldn't ride with strangers. The name's Gabriella. Put it there, Mister..."

She let the sentence dangle from her smiling lips until he took the obvious cue.

"Liam. Call me Liam, and thank you." They shook then Gabriella put the truck in gear. "Did I say that already? I wouldn't have lasted another hour if you hadn't found me."

"Pleased to meet you, Liam and don't mention it. Folks look out for each other around here. Real friendly-like, you'll see. We'll have you back on your feet in no time."

________________

For Liam, the journey passed as if in a dream. Whether from the head injury or the oppressive heat of the truck's cab, he didn't know. It could have been a combination of both.

Gabriella was a cheerful sort, peppering him with questions and prattling on in her midwestern country accent.

He answered inquiries about his job and what Los Angeles was like--did he know any famous movie stars? No, he wasn't married. He tried to explain code development through a mind stuffed with cotton wool while struggling not to ogle a girl young enough to be the teenage daughter he never had.

She was briefly attired in little denim cut-offs that barely covered her bubbly rear, brown cowgirl boots with curly stitching, the aforementioned flannel shirt knotted under her spectacular tits, and the obligatory stetson. It left a lot of firm, supple flesh out on display, and the way she jiggled and bounced over each rough patch of road was terribly distracting.

"That means you're really smart, right? " Gabriella teased a ringlet of golden hair down into the deep valley of her prodigious breasts, drawing Liam's gaze. "Working with computers and complicated numbers sounds awful... hard."

The emphasis on that word and the increasingly smoky glances she kept sending his direction didn't help the swelling in his jeans or the pounding headache clouding his better judgment.

"I am--I mean, it is... uh, challenging, but that's why I love it. Well-written code can be beautiful. Elegant. When everything fits together just right and works seamlessly. There's an art to that which most people don't appreciate."

There. Bullet dodged. Yay for him.

The throbbing ache in Liam's skull and crotch didn't get the message, though.

"Beautiful... elegant... you talk about code like it's a lady," Gabriella giggled, stroking the gear stick suggestively. "I bet those big city girls go weak at the knees for that huge brain of yours, speaking that way."

"Not really. There haven't been any girls--I mean women, uh... in a very long time."

The words were difficult to say, partly because of the sting of the truth but mainly because Liam was preoccupied, watching Gabriella's dainty hand slide up and down. He shifted uncomfortably on the seat, attempting to obscure the pressing bulge below.

"What, how is that possible?" Fingers fled the transmission lever to cover her strawberry lips, circled in an astonished 'oh.' "But Liam, you're clever and funny. A real sweetheart with a kind heart and, if you don't mind me saying, easy on the eyes."

"That's very nice of you... ah, why are we stopping?"

Gabriella coasted the truck onto the deserted shoulder and set the brake before turning her entire breathtaking body to face him. The movement brought her knees up on the bench seat and angled her propped-up chest for a front-row view. The concern in those ocean-blue eyes was back in spades.

"I don't mean to pry, truly, but how long have you been single?" Her stare was intense, and tears welled when he only shrugged a reply. "You poor thing! No one should have to feel alone, cut off from the world, starving for human affection."

Liam was struck dumb by the abrupt nearness and vehement empathy emanating from the innocent angel less than an arm's length away.

How could he articulate the complicated cocktail of low self-worth and career anxiety that had made him a social hermit? Or explain the hair-wrenching complexities of the algorithm that was online dating? Never mind meeting someone at a bar; that would require courage and machismo, two traits he sorely lacked.

"Never found the time." It was a lame excuse, tragically cliche, but the cab was sweltering, and his head felt like a drum line was stomping out a parade performance inside. Surprising, given most of his blood had pooled in his hardening groin. "It's fine--"

"It's not fine. Don't say that!" Gabriella's outburst shocked them both, and she lowered her head, twiddling nervous fingers. "Sorry, but I know a little about how it feels, you know? It may sound naive, but I'm the youngest person on the farm, and nobody takes me seriously.

"Miss Lily is always busy, Dad died when I was a baby, and my older sisters are very pretty. They get all the attention, leaving me forgotten in their shadows, you know? Goodness, you must think me stupid for babbling..."

"No, I don't." Liam's hand was on her bare thigh without prompting from his brain. It felt wonderfully silky and firm as a peach. "Think you're stupid, that is. Feeling ignored is tough, but you're young and beautiful with a whole life ahead of you."

"You honestly think I'm beautiful?" She asked in a small, pleading voice, shuffling closer. "No man's ever called me beautiful."

Liam tried to pull away, to take back his fumbling words and regain some control of the moment. Gabriella rested a palm over his hand, trapping it against her tender flesh, and moaned.

It was a quiet noise that may have well been the deafening crack of a starter pistol for his engorged dick. It lurched in his jeans, and Liam adjusted again to ease the excruciating pressure.

That was a mistake. Haydley's downcast eyes locked on the conspicuous lump like a targeting system. A gasp escaped her lips before the plaintive expression on her endearing face took on an impish quality.

"Heavens forgive me, babbling about my silly troubles while you are obviously in pain." She crooned, leaning in until her warm breath brushed his cheek. "Can I help you with that, Liam, please? I promise to be a good girl and make you feel better. I've never done something like this, but I've fantasized about it many times."

Her beguiling country-girl body was perfection personified, pressing into him. Thick curves in all the right places, trim and toned everywhere else. There was defined muscle on her flat tummy and slender limbs, signs of healthy farm living with no hint of excess fat except where it counted.

She could have starred as a pin-up girl for the bread bowl of America--enticingly young, brilliantly blonde, and incredibly buxom--attracting droves of laborers to the struggling agro-industries of the midwest.

"We shouldn't." Liam gasped, hips jerking uncontrollably when Gabriella traced the outline of his turgidity. Her abundant tit-flesh sandwiched his shoulder in cocooning softness as she melded against his side. "I'm old enough to be your father..."

A girlish giggle trilled from her kissable lips, curling around the shell of his ear, and she squirmed adorably against him.

"Then tell me what to do. Teach me a lesson... Daddy."

The pounding in Liam's skull suddenly seemed secondary to the thundering heartbeat in his crotch. When she released him from the too-tight slacks, his steely length leaped at her caressing touch. Delicate fingers wrapped around him and lightly squeezed.

A litany of insane scenarios stampeded through his mind like herds of frightened sheep.

What did she think about his size? Wasn't he too old for this nubile Venus? Could this be some sick game she played on forlorn travelers before kicking them to the literal curb? Would she have her fun, then leave him abandoned, or worse?

"Wow, Daddy. You're stiff and hard for me already." Gabriella cooed, nuzzling his chin. "I bet it aches something fierce. Please, may I take care of it for you?"

She gave him a few testing strokes, small fingers gliding up and down in a relaxed but insistent rhythm, twisting around the enraged tip, then descending again. The press of her firm body and perfume of clean sweat blended with fresh laundry were intoxicating. Strangely wholesome and comforting in a moment that was anything but.

"I--I want to, but..." Liam croaked, tongue dry as old boot leather. "You can't want this... not with me. Not someone as perfect as you."

"My only desire is to make you feel good, Daddy. Please say you'll let me. Pleeease," the teenage bombshell begged, rubbing against his side and peppering his jaw with tiny kisses. "I've dreamed about a man like you for years--a handsome stranger who will love me and save me from loneliness and despair. Even if it's just for a little while, let me be your special girl, please?"

She still held his hand on her thigh, tugging it higher until Liam's fingers grazed against the damp strip of denim covering her pussy.

"Oh god." He rasped, spurting an exuberant glob of precum. "You're actually wet."

"Wet for you, Daddy." She moaned, shoving his fingers deeper, stroking him faster. "You had me all hot and bothered the second you climbed into my truck. I was destined to be yours the moment I spotted you stranded there, as though the almighty had finally answered my prayers. Please, permit me to be your good girl."

Liam's brain was a kaleidoscope of warring emotions. The migraine took a backseat as other more primal, nearly forgotten urges reared up in its place.

This lovely, wounded dove, fallen to earth, was pleading desperately for his affection--a kindred spirit suffering silently in these isolated backwaters. An unfamiliar kernel of masculine instinct stirred in his skinny chest. The need to protect and possess this fragile flower blazed through him as she panted out passionate breaths.

"Alright. Fine. Fuck, you're goddamn amazing." Liam jerked in her pumping fist, skirting the verge of eruption. "If this is what you want, baby girl, then take it!"

"Thank you, Daddy!" Gabriella squealed, lunging forward to suck him between her plump lips and swallowing his throbbing shaft in a single, swift motion. "Hmmmnph!"

Her enormous chest flattened against his lap when she took him to the base with a throaty gulp. The stetson rolled into a footwell, forgotten. Laim shuddered and twitched at the feel of her tight esophagus engulfing his bulbous tip. She held herself there, completely impaled on his immodest manhood, massaging it with small swallowing constrictions.

"Oh... oh shit!" He stammered, gripping her blonde tresses like they were the safety bar on a rollercoaster. "How are you do-doing that?"

Gabriella smiled around her mouthful of dick. He actually felt her lips curling, before forming a suctioning seal and beginning to move. She made lewd gagging noises, swiveling her bobbing head at different angles to rub him against her tongue and cheeks, attempting to coat every last tastebud with his manly essence.

Liam's hips bucked off the seat involuntarily, driving into the eager blonde's lovely face. In a flash of horrified self-consciousness, he realized what he was doing and released the fist clutching her voluminous hair.

"Fuck, too rough--"

"Nooooo, Daddy!" She gurgled lustily, seizing his wrist to drag it back. "Mmhmmm...."

It was as though Gabriella was steering him toward new heights of hedonism. With one of his hands snared between her slick, grinding thighs and the other pressed against her suckling skull Liam blearily wondered who was teaching whom.

Then his churning balls klaxoned a final alarm, and all remaining rational thought abandoned ship.

"Fuck, Gabby! I'm about to--"

The warning was cut short when carnal static buzzed every nerve and grounded itself in his tumescent lightning rod, sparking a bone-rattling release straight down her cock-gargling throat.

It exploded from Liam in thick, gooey spurts that turned his legs to jelly and flooded his tortured brain with endorphins. Spots danced in his vision as what felt like the biggest load of his life barrelled into the gorgeous farm girl's ravenous belly.

"Mmmmff!" Gabriella slurped and mewled happily, sucking diligently until she had swallowed every last drop before coming up for air. "Ah! Goodness, Daddy, that sure seemed like a lot. You might be what we farm folk call a 'big producer.'"

"Uh-huh, that's nice." Liam floated weightlessly in a blissful post-nut haze unlike any he had experienced. "Thanks... I think?"

"That was incredible. I didn't know it would be so exciting to do that with a guy." She wiped her mouth daintily, then gave him a long smooch on the cheek. "I'll need to change my panties when we get back. Shorts too. It's a total mess down there."

Gabriella continued babbling merrily as she started the truck and got them on the road again. Liam listened with a dopy half-smile enjoying the sweet sound of her voice tinged with that cute country twang.

He dozed on and off as the interminable fields of wheat blurred together until a rough access road broke mind-numbing monotony with a carved timber sign arching above the gate. He mustered enough focus to read it as they passed underneath.

"Welcome to the Cottonwood Stud Ranch."

________________

"Wakey wakey, sleepy head. We're here."

Blinking drowsily, Liam yawned, then jolted upright when reality returned to him in a rush. The memory of letting a lonely young woman--hardly more than a teenager, really--give him a world-class blowjob held a slightly predatory sting.

Had that actually happened, or was it a sick delusion conjured by his head injury? He ardently prayed it was the latter.

Turning like a man about to face the gallows, Liam looked at Gabriella. She was still there, bright and beautiful as ever, with those sky-blue orbs and pearly whites flashing cheerily back at him.

"Good, you're awake. C'mon, handsome. I'll introduce you to Miss Lily, and she'll look after that lump on your noggin. Make sure you don't have a concussion."

As though summoned, the migraine resurfaced, chipping away at his frontal lobe with a mining pick.

"Ugh. Yes, please. My head is killing me." He fumbled with the door and almost fell when it swung outward.