Two for Kelsi

There was only one solution to the long Nebraska winter nights.

Beer.

Lots of it.

Oh, we'd venture into the harder alcoholic drinks as the night progressed. We were particularly fond of whiskey and coke. A typical party would be anywhere between six and twelve of us, various permutations of our extended circle of friends. We'd usually start in a local bar. At some point we'd migrate to someone's house or apartment, with a stop at the liquor store on the way there. Once we were stocked up, we'd settle into a warm kitchen or living room and whittle away the night, drinking, talking, laughing, sometimes dancing.

There would usually be a few couples present and, inevitably, at some point during the evening they'd slip away, either into one of the bedrooms, or they'd vanish into the night, heading home, or wherever they could find a snug bed. Some of the friendships were of the "with benefits" kind, which would end up in temporary couples who also slipped away as the night wore on.

Those that remained would enjoy the party, usually until we ran out of steam and found someplace comfortable to sleep, or until the beer was gone and we'd wander home drunkenly. That was a weekend night in small town Nebraska. It was a pattern that repeated itself constantly, with minor variations in location and participants, through all those long winter months.

That's where I found myself on a snowy Saturday night. It was one of those ugly winter nights common on the great plains, with falling snow and howling winds. On this particular Saturday we ended up at a small house just outside of town belonging to Tim and Carey Michealson. I'd never partied there before, though Tim and I had been friends through high school and college, and I knew Carey well enough. They were regulars at the Corner Bar, where we hung out, but they were not particularly hard partiers, usually ending the night early and heading home.

This Saturday they stayed until just before midnight and Carey suggested we take the after party to their place. Carey's older sister Kelsi was in town for a visit and the after party was in her honor. I'd gone to the Corner Bar with my friend David earlier in the evening. At some point, we gravitated over to the Michaelson's table.

My friend David was Mr. Charisma. He had a charm about him. He was an easy-going, affable, funny, talkative guy. David was one of those people who turns strangers into friends easily, and so was generally invited to and accepted at any party, regardless of how well we knew the hosts.

David and Kelsi hit it off. They both had similar personalities. Kelsi was a few years older than the rest of us, in her late twenties. She was a good-looking woman. She was about five foot seven or so, a few inches shorter than me. She had shoulder length dark brown hair, with curls, big expressive brown eyes, and enough curves to catch and hold your attention. She was wearing a long tan colored sweater belted at the waist, blue jeans, and cowboy boots.

David was a tall and lean cowboy, wearing a western shirt, jeans, boots, and a Resistol hat. He was a rodeo cowboy during rodeo season and, like me, a working cowboy the rest of the time. I was dressed similarly, as was about half of the Corner Bar. I've often joked there were only three looks in small town Nebraska. Ranchers wore cowboy hats. Farmers wore baseball caps with some implement dealership logo. Townies wore neither.

Being an unattached woman, Kelsi drew some attention, with her good looks and her obvious outsider vibe, being dressed a notch above your standard hard-drinking small town westerner. But, by about ten o'clock she was sitting next to David and wearing his Resistol.

Now, there is etiquette to cowboy hats. For those not familiar with it, I can break it down to two simple rules for you. Rule one is never fuck with someone's cowboy hat. That is the fastest way to get into a fight. The inverse of that holds true as well. If you want to start a fight, fuck with someone's cowboy hat. Rule two is no one wears someone else's hat with one exception; your girlfriend or wife can wear your hat.

The attention Kelsi was getting settled down and slipped away when, about midway through the night, David took his hat off and put it on her head. That's cowboy for "this woman is mine". The inverse of rule one kicked in at that point. Fuck with Kelsi and you were, by extension, fucking with David's hat. David knew it. Kelsi knew it. I knew it. Everyone with a lick of sense knew it. So, with some envy, I scratched her off the potential hook-up list for that night.

Unfortunately for me, I knew all the other unattached women in the bar and, for one reason or the other, the potential list, now that Kelsi had signaled her interest in David and vice-versa, dropped to zero.

Kelsi kept up the flirtatious conversation and I freely flirted back, but that little flirtation was about all I expected to get that night. David and I had been friends for a long time and, true to his personality, he took it all in an affable way, knowing full well that I wouldn't take it any further. Flirting is ubiquitous among cowboys. Sometimes it's done with intention, but most often it's done with a wink and a smile, to brighten up a day, or to pass a winter's night in a small bar.

We decided to wrap it up at the bar and head over to Tim and Casey's house to indulge in more drinking while we were all still sober enough to drive. We had a little mini caravan of four trucks that wound its way out to their place, a small ranch house about a mile out of town. The weather was verging on bad; the roads were icy, and drifts were starting to form, but we all made it there safely.

Once we reached the Michaelson's place, we headed inside and quickly surrounded the kitchen table to play spades or settled into the living room to listen to music, talk, and drink beer. The conversation was light, friendly, and funny. The music was classic rock and roll, mixed with some outlaw country. It was a nice group, so it was an easy, relaxed, winter night.

After a few beers the group winnowed down quickly, as those headed to their own homes wanted to beat any bad weather. Soon enough there were only five of us sitting around that kitchen table, drinking and playing cards. I was the fifth wheel, and I was stuck there. Since it looked like David and Kelsi were going to hook up and since David was my ride home, I figured another beer and I'd be cuddling up to my sleeping companion, the living room couch.

Sure enough, before too long, the Michaelson's were heading to bed, having shown me the closet where they kept the spare blankets and inviting me and David to spend the night. David, Kelsi, and I stayed up for another hour or so, sitting in the living room, talking, and finishing our last beer. Finally, Kelsi stood up, took David by the hand, and headed down the hallway to the spare bedroom. I broke out a pair of quilts, turned all the lights off except one lamp, which I dimmed, and stripped down to my jeans and t-shirt and made myself comfortable on the couch.

I had a nice solid buzz going, so once I'd laid a blanket on the couch, stretched out, and covered myself with the other blanket, I was good. As far as couches go, the Michaelson's couch was comfortable, both wide enough and long enough that falling asleep was going to be easy. Even with the winter wind blowing outside it was cozy and warm inside the house, so just before I fell asleep, I stripped off my jeans and t-shirt to be comfortable, then pulled the blankets up over my head and drifted off to the soft sounds floating out of the radio.

At some point later in the night I woke to a hand lightly shaking my shoulder. I figured David and Kelsi were done and, for some unknown reason, David decided not to spend the night. I pulled the blanket off my head and sat up, expecting to see David, but I was wrong. It was Kelsi.

She was wearing David's western shirt, unbuttoned to the navel, and a pair of soft blue panties.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and drank her in for a moment. Her hair was tousled, kind of wild looking, and the expanse of pale brown skin glowed in the darkness, from her face and neck, down the unbuttoned line of the shirt, then on to her long legs. She looked soft and warm and sensual. She smelled, faintly, of sex.

"Yeah," I said, "I'm good. It's a great sofa. Is everything okay?"

"Oh, it's all good. I was just wondering about you. I didn't want to be a bad host."

Now, I am a lot of things, but the brightest bulb isn't necessarily one of them, especially when I've had a few beers in me and I've just been woken by a scantily clad woman, so you'll have to bear with me a bit here as I slowly catch onto things.

Since I sat up, the blanket was covering me from the waist down, otherwise I was naked except for my boxer shorts. I laid back down on the couch, pulled the blanket a little higher and scooted over a bit. Kelsi perched on the edge of the couch and laid her warm hand on my upper abdomen to steady herself. I lifted one knee to hide my erection. Either it sprang up, full grown, from her touch, or I was hard in my sleep and didn't realize I was tenting the blanket until her hand landed on my abdomen. Either way I had this sudden awareness that I was fully erect.

Kelsi laughed softly.

"Now he hides his erection!" she said, tracing her fingernails in a slow circle. "I thought you were just happy to see me."

"Darling," I said, "I'm always happy to be woken by a half-naked woman in the middle of the night."

That brought another quiet laugh from her, and she lightly slapped my chest, then left her hand there, lingering again, warm, and soft. She ran her palm over my nipple, which hardened instantly at the dry, sliding, rasp of skin on skin. I caught my breath with a sharp inhale.

"Oh, sensitive. I really like that in a man."

She reached across and caressed the other nipple with the flat of her palm.

"Can I ask you a question?" she queried, gazing into my eyes.

I nodded, afraid that if I said anything, it would be something stupid, between the beer and all the blood that had rushed to my cock.

She moved then, slowly rising to her feet, twisting slightly, and laying down on top of me, the shirt opening fully so the warmth of her torso flowed into mine as she settled on me, her full breasts pressing into my chest, her hard nipples sliding over my skin. She moved as if to kiss me, then at the last minute veered to the side. Still silent, she adjusted again, slowly closing her legs and catching my hard cock between her thighs.

"So," she whispered into my ear, "I was wondering if you wanted to fuck me?"

That was a tough position to be in. Okay, it was almost an impossible position to be in, but I did still have a lick of cautious sense. I didn't really know Kelsi, but I am cynical enough about women that I thought, perhaps, she was a coyote.

Now, don't confuse that with the border coyotes, the human smugglers. It refers to a particular type of woman who runs a particular type of con, for a variety of reasons, on men. There are some women out there who love nothing more than stirring up drama. They like to watch men fight over them. It turns them on.

It's called a coyote game, where the woman gets a man in a compromising position, just so another man will come storming in. Sometimes it's done for money, as a shake down. Sometimes it's done for robbery, where the other man is the robber. I reckoned I could rule that one out. I didn't expect David to come charging out of the bedroom demanding my wallet.

Sometimes it's just done for excitement, from some sort of perverse desire, or simply from boredom. I weighed the possibility that she was just looking for the excitement of two men fighting over her. I'd like to think my friendship with David was solid enough that he'd see through it. However, I have been punched by friends before and sometimes it was because of a woman's affection. Still, I thought it was a small chance, but possible.

I whispered back to her.

"What happened to David?"

She caught my ear in her teeth, bit it lightly, and let go.

"He's already fucked me. He's recovering now. I want more."

"What's he got to say about that?"

I couldn't help it, as I whispered the question in the shell of her ear, my hands reached up and around, cupping her full ass and giving it a squeeze. She wiggled and ground against me, my hard cock still trapped between her thighs.

"He said, and I quote, ask him, if he's up to it, I'm up to it".

She gave her hips a slow side to side roll, with my poor cock trapped between them.

"I think you're up for it. Feels like you're up for it."

Now, at this point, the part of me that was capable of rational thought was still wondering if it was some sort of crazy coyote game. The part of me that was trapped between her thighs was all in. When my cock has an argument with my brain, my cock usually wins.

"How do you want to do this?" I asked. Hell, if she'd answered, "on the roof in the snowstorm", the answer would have been yes, but in my now lust fogged brain, I was lagging in the details. I was quite willing to fuck her anyway and anywhere she wanted.

She shifted and sat up, still straddling my hips, both of her hands on my chest. She gave her hips a slow roll, grinding against me.

"I want you both at the same time, inside of me. Think you can handle that?"

While what remained of my rational brain checked out, overloaded by her firm ass in my hands and her hot groin rocking against my cock through the quilt, I rocked my hips in a small upward thrust and made a classic cowboy brag.

"Darling, I can handle whatever you can throw at me. You sure David is into this?"

Give most cowboys an opportunity and they will talk shit, even if they have no idea what they're doing.

She just laughed softly.

"It didn't take much persuasion. I just waited until he was close to cumming and then asked. My pussy is very persuasive."

She gave me another slow grind, then stood up, stepping off me. She took me by the hand and led me across the living room and down the dark hallway. My cock had slipped out through the fly of my boxer shorts and was happily bobbing along in front of me. We slipped quietly through the first door on the right.

Now, I'd seen David naked before. We went to school together and played on the same baseball team, shared the same showers. We'd worked the same ranches, slept in the same bunkhouses, ridden the same lines. Being a cowboy isn't all Brokeback Mountain, but living in close quarters, skinny dipping, washing your clothes and laying in the sun to dry, you get over any body shyness you have sooner rather than later.

What I hadn't seen before was him, sitting on top the bed, leaned back against the headboard, slowly stroking his fully erect cock. I stopped and stared for a moment. He had a handsome cock. A bit longer than mine, not quite as girthy, but pretty impressive anyway.

Out of nervousness, I said the first thing that popped into my head.

"Well, who knew you manscaped up so nicely?"

He did. His pubic hair was cut into a nice, neat, short triangle. Hell, he probably even used conditioner on it.

David just shook his head slowly from side to side.

"Don't make it weird partner." He said in the slow affectation of a drawl.

Nervousness can make me babble sometimes, so I snapped my mouth shut.

Kelsi turned around, grabbed the waistband of my boxer shorts, and skinned them down my thighs. She wrapped her hand around my cock and pulled me after her as she climbed into the bed, David sliding over to one side, Kelsi taking the middle, me sliding into the other side as I kicked the boxers from around my ankles. I didn't know where they went. I didn't care.

"Just relax." Kelsi said, leaning over to kiss David, "No one is going to get hurt. Well, except me, and that's hopefully going to be a good hurt, the kind that hits me in the pit of the stomach and makes my pussy twitch."

She turned and kissed me, deeply and softly. She was a great kisser. We settled down into the bed and she alternated between kissing us, first one, then the other, slowly, passionately. It didn't take long for us to warm to the situation. Soon, we were both running our hands over her body, feeling her lines and curves, caressing her gently, playing with her hard nipples, stroking her wet pussy lips with alternating fingers.

She was moaning softly and twisting back and forth between us, caressing our bodies, stroking our cocks, squeezing, and releasing our balls. If there was any uncomfortableness between David and I it evaporated, carried away by the sound of the wind outside and the sound of moans inside. Fortunately, the bed was sturdy and quiet as we shifted around. After an intermittent time spent kissing and caressing, David propped himself up on one elbow.

"So, how are we going to do this?"

Kelsi gave his cock a squeeze.

"You're longer, so you're going to be on the bottom. I'm going to straddle you, then lean forward, and he's going to come in from behind."

She reached down and dipped a finger into her pussy, pulling it out and holding it up in the dim light. We could see it was glistening with her juices.

"I'm wet enough I should be able to take both of you."

She reached over and gave my cock a squeeze.

"When I tell you, you come into me from behind. You're going to have to push hard but go slow. My pussy is already going to be stuffed with your friend's cock. Just ease it in, hard, steady, and slow. Don't worry about any sounds I make. If I need you to stop, I'll tell you."

She looked back and forth at us.

"Are you both sure you're up for this? There is going to be some cock-on-cock friction and some guys, well, they can't handle it. I don't want either of you freaking out. It kind of spoils the moment."

I glanced at David.

"I'm good if you're good partner."

David just nodded slowly up and down.

"I'm good."

"Good." Kelsi said. "Now, do we want to do a round of handshaking? Maybe a pinky pledge? Or are you ready to double-fuck my pussy?"

"Birth control?" I asked, "Do we need condoms?"

"Not as far as I'm concerned," Kelsi said, "I had a tubal ligation a few years back. Medical issues, I can't have children."

"I'm good then," David said, "it's your call partner."

"I'm good."

"Jesus Christ, you damn cowboys, you'd think you were negotiating a lease deal." Kelsi laughed.

"Now, get back to fingering me, I want to be dripping all over your hands before I take your cocks".

David and I got back to work, both of us sliding our fingers into Kelsi's pussy, working them back and forth, twisting them, stroking in and out of her. I'd never had my fingers in a woman at the same time as another man. The sensation of other fingers moving against mine, slickly twisting and turning was a different feeling. We tried to coordinate, so we weren't just randomly wandering around inside of her. One of us would stroke her pussy lips, rubbing them softly, while the other plunged in and out.

It didn't take long before she pulled a pillow over her face to muffle her moans, her hips twisting about as the wet sounds of our finger-fucking her rose up into the room. Her scent was soft and intoxicating and within minutes she was spilling all over our hands. We both kissed her body, caressing it with our lips, on her mouth, down her neck, over her shoulders, licking and sucking her hard nipples, slowly devouring her as we fingered her.

"Fuck. Fuck." She said, "Stop, stop or I'm going to cum."

We slipped our wet fingers out of her. Grabbing us each by the wrist, she lifted our hands to her mouth and sucked our fingers clean, moaning around them as her tongue wove in and out between our fingers, as her lips slid up and down them, alternating between our hands.