You're Always 17 Ch. 02

Will sat with a sardonic grin until things died down, and asked, "So you seemed to like it. Any thoughts on improving it?" There were not, though Shannon said she had a few thoughts she might share tomorrow, but not right now.

About twenty songs later, Woody closed the show with an invitation. "We need to get back, and you need to get home. We're hosting a songwriters round tomorrow night, and you're all invited! Be there by seven, and BYOB!"

It took fifteen minutes for the crowd to disburse, leaving Shannon and me staring at the fire still flickering in the ring. She got her phone from the pocket of her romper, found something to play, laid her phone on the hood, and gave me that smoldering but playful look I know means the fun is about to start.

When the music began, she began. At first it was just dancing around the fire, its flickering flames intermittently alighting her hair and bare skin - that was sensuous enough. Then she stood across the fire, shimmying, shaking, and gyrating wickedly by the flickering firelight, with the moon adding a glow. The top of the romper fell below her bouncing breasts, and then it was bunched at her hips, and her upper body was bare.

I wanted to vault over the fire and take her, but she was moved to provide this show, so I watched. She spun, looked over her shoulder at me, stuck out that butt, and then danced right and left, showing me her back, the side view, and the full frontal; I was holding my breath, staring at this vision of feminine perfection and want.

The golden-brown romper made its way slowly over and down her hips until her bright gold panties were fully exposed, and then she turned and danced, with her ass shaking and twerking, before letting the romper drop around her feet. She turned back to face me, locked her eyes on me, and slooowwwllly worked the panties down to her knee, and finally her ankles.

I could see the moisture of her need by the flickering firelight, and her breasts were heaving. Never had I seen a more perfect, more wanton woman. I quickly undressed, while she remained across the fire, swaying, with one hand caressing her breasts and the other her clit. I gestured for her to come, but she remained across the pit, swaying, pleasuring herself, and taunting me.

When I could take no more teasing, she giggled her challenge: "Catch me if you can!" I started around the pit on my right. She broke left, ran for the Denali, threw the back door open, and dove inside. I grabbed her clothing off the ground and followed, only to find her spread-eagle, right leg hooked over the front seat, left leg over the back, with two fingers in her wet puss and a nipple trapped between two more. Her hips were already gyrating when I knelt between her legs; she grabbed my cock, pulled it inside, and moaned loudly with pleasure.

This was not love making, nor was it wild monkey sex; it was a highly animalistic mating, as cougars might do, and she soon screamed her approval into the night, as a cougar would do. For a man sated a few hours ago, my balls produced copious amounts of cum, and that scalding cream only increased the volume of her yawl.

She wrapped her legs around me, whispered words of love and fulfillment, and held me tightly within.

Her giggle signaled that my fiancée was back, and the wanton woman was resting. She laughingly complained that we were going to have to have her new Denali detailed before anyone could ride in the back seat, and probably the front! We used the rest of the wet wipes to clean ourselves and the seat, I policed the fire to ensure it wasn't going anywhere in the calm night, and we returned to the motel.

The next morning, we ate a large breakfast, and then hurried to the auto parts store for deodorant and leather cleaner. Her perfect ass and legs extending out the open door nearly caused several wrecks, but she was focused on cleaning her graduation present and didn't seem to pay attention to the locked brakes, horns, whistles, or catcalls. I did see a grin from time to time that proved she wasn't as unaware as it appeared.

I'm sure some of those cars made a dozen trips down that section of the old highway, but I took it as appreciation. After a while, I left my rag and walked around back to see what the fuss was about and emitted a whistle of appreciation of my own. She was standing straight-legged for maximum effect, those tiny shorts couldn't quite cover that round butt atop the bare, shapely legs: she was absolutely, positively enough to cause a wreck!

When I returned to my side, she looked up, tits dangling, and said, "We need to finish this job soon and get back to the room, or we're going to have to start over! I'm still horny from last night, and the sounds of appreciation are turning me on again, so get your side finished and let's go!"

I called her a sexy little exhibitionist, she purred her agreement, claimed she couldn't help it - she was a cheerleader, after all - and told me to hurry up or suffer the consequences. We were in our room in five!

Emerging again an hour later, we found River and Katrina with Ken. Katrina cattily claimed, "We've been waiting since you two returned, but you seemed to be on a mission. Feel better now?"

She purred and laid her head on my chest; I just grinned. They laughed, got up, and walked to the SUV with us. "Gosh, this new car smells like it's been freshly detailed!" Katrina observed even more cattily, and River claimed he'd never enjoyed a better smelling deodorant!

The sex-fiend exhibitionist blushed, but I just shook my head; I knew what he meant, and I agreed!

It was forecast to be an 'unusually hot day Indian Summer Day' with a high near or above 95, and my brothers and their wives were taking another day off to show us show us around. River was wearing old man docker shorts and a tee shirt; my brothers and I were wearing jogging shorts and tees; the four women wore short-shorts and racer-back tops. No bra with a racer-back, so the jiggling and wriggling was quite distracting.

The denizens of Cowtown, one of the hottest places in the state, were never known for modest clothing or inhibition, and Katrina and Shannon seemed to have fallen right in with that frame of mind. In this garb, Katrina regained solid footing as my top MILF, 40-50 division, and my SILs were dominating under 30.

Luckily, we were in a passenger van Alex had bought for his burgeoning family and used for transporting workers to larger jobs. He was driving and Will was our guide, so sitting on the second seat with Shannon I was free to ogle, like River was doing from the third seat. Kathy was in the first jump seat, beside me, and Brooke was in the second, beside River.

All I have to say is, my brothers married well, and the baby was going to have plenty of milk when he/she was born in a few months. Kathy preened and posed under my not-so-subtle-as-I-planned scrutiny, and Brooke treated us - River and I - to quite a show of legs and boobs. Shannon elbowed me more than once, and Katrina laughed at us several times. We knew they were teasing, and so were we, although the show was excellent.

Being distracted meant I didn't notice we had turned onto a paved area until Will asked, "Remember this?" My gut clinched at the site of the Smitherman Industries building. To me, it represented the submission of Cow County men to the oppression of the Smitherman's and their minions. Those who went to work here faced long hours, low pay, bad working conditions, and a lack of insurance that would sooner or later affect them, their spouses, or their children, and possibly leave them destitute.

"Before you get out and start shooting, look at the signage across the front. After we removed the Smitherman sign, Carr Dirt Works lifted and installed it, and Carr Electric hooked it up. It's a pretty cool sign, but what it represents is what makes it beautiful.

"This industrial plant belongs to a group of investors from here and yon, including from San Antonio, where the LLC is headquartered. There are two more 'plants' that opened along the river road, though they are tech based and much smaller. All three offer wages and benefits competitive with those offered in the cities, and, with the permanent jobs remaining from the Eagle Ford play, Cowtown is at near full employment. That's a lot different from when you left.

"Most everyone here attributes the demise of the Smithermans to Will's songs, but your refusal to kowtow to them, and the beating you put on those perverts right before you left, are well remembered. Like you heard, 'Like TMC!' became a battle cry when the rebellion started."

"This place still gives me the creeps, but it looks a lot better with that sign than with the old one. Show me the other workplaces, and the new clinic I've heard so much about."

They did, and the shiny modern buildings stood out compared to historic Front Street, with its 1870-1900 brick buildings and sidewalks with 'horse rings' to tether your horse. Some of these old buildings were crumbling when I left, but as the prosperity of the community grew, they were restored to their former glory, and designated historic buildings of some class. Seeing that, and the nice automobiles and pickups everywhere, made me happy. This version of Cowtown was something I never expected to see.

From downtown, Alex drove into the affluent neighborhood where the Smithermans and those they favored lived. The grounds of the dozen houses were still nice, but not manicured like when each had a gardener. The homes were still well kept, but children's toys and playgrounds were seen in the backyards now, and they looked homier rather than intimidating.

The family jewel, the Smitherman Mansion erected by the grandparents with their ill-gotten gains, was owned by one of the techies who had moved his shop here. Will said he made several fortunes in games before he began developing business and government software, and his shop was filled with bright, creative minds that helped the community continue to evolve. The Cowtown Carrs were friends with Richy, the owner, and several of his developers.

Alex stopped at a taco stand in a small food truck park near an abandoned beer joint above the river, and we each chose the kind of taco we wanted. It was 90-something, but there was a nice breeze, so we ate at a couple of umbrella-covered round tables. My carne asada tacos were excellent, as were Shannon's fajita tacos; I know because we traded around. She argued they were the same, until I showed her the cuts of beef.

The old river park, abandoned during the Smitherman era, was restored, with BBQ pits, grills, covered concrete tables and benches, and easy river access for fishing. Swimming was not allowed, due to varying water conditions, some of which involved rapidly running water and some involved dangerously stagnant water. But that is all right, Kathy chimed in, because an indoor-outdoor pool was in the park a mile or so away.

All in all, this seemed to have become a good place to raise a family, and my brothers were content here. Who'd a thunk it?

After a refreshing nap and shower, we got dressed for the songwriters to do out at Will's place. It was still hot, but creased jeans and a blue polo were laid out on the bed when I got out of the shower. I put the polo shirt back and grabbed a Caribbean shirt with all kinds of Texas peppers on it, traded the jeans for a nice set of Wrangler shorts, and my cleanest athletic shoes.

I got an immediate look of disapproval, then a more speculative look, and finally a nod of approval. I wear jeans well, but my muscular legs draw looks and words of appreciation in shorts, and the casual shirt accentuates my shoulders and arms. I think I look fairly decent, and well within the spirit of a songwriters' festival.

Then I lowered my eyes from her approving face to her attire, and damn! Mid-thigh denim skirt, off the shoulders white blouse that accentuates her boobies and then stops just short of the waist of the skirt. That taut belly is visible, and that amazing ass is impossible to take your eyes off of! Her level of hotness is greater than the ghost peppers on my shirt!

Alex is on time with the van. He and Will watch Shannon and Katrina, who's wearing a denim romper, like a Caracara watches a mouse, and River gives Shannon a look from behind, rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and says, "Damn!"

I climb in, see Kathy's little sundress and Brooks short, sleeveless shift, and pause. I lean between the seats, and ask, "Where are the guns, and how many are there?"

Will catches on and replies, "Yeah, we need to stop back by the house for baseball bats and pistols. These musicians are used to getting whoever they want, and I'm afraid this bunch of showoffs are going to be at the top of the list!"

"Don't have guns or baseball bats," Alex stated, "but I do have a couple of tire irons and a nail puller under the third seat, and a Guardian 3 knife on my belt. We should be able to make do with that, although I doubt Will or Lila are going to let it get out of hand."

By this time the girls were giving us hell, with Kathy leading the way. "If you're trying to protect the virtue of this group, you're a few years late! Besides, wouldn't you be excited to know I bedded a country star, Baby?"

"Oh, I'd be excited, all right; me and the nail puller!"

Kathy squealed with delight and hugged her hubby over the seat. Shannon grinned at me and started to ask; I shut her down. "Don't even ask! If you decide to bed some country superstar, get him to drop you off in Dallas, 'cause my ass and your car will be in Orla, and your clothes will be in U-Haul boxes in your SUV labeled 'Mommy and Daddy, Highland Park.'"

"So, you wouldn't fight for me?

"Okay, stupid question,' she said with a grin. "I guess what you mean is, if I cheat on you, I'm walking to Big D?"

"Tonight, or any day or night for the rest of eternity! Yes, you understand!"

"But we haven't even done the 'forsaking all others' vow yet. Can't I have a little fun before then?" she persisted.

"Absolutely! Didn't you have a 'little fun' last night?" "Um hmm" she responded and snuggled up to me.

"Heard y'all had a party out at Billy Goat, and mountain lions were marauding and screaming after everyone left. Know anything about that?" Brooke jibed.

"Must have happened after we made sure the fire wasn't going anywhere," I replied with a smirk, which begat widespread laughter.

The gate across the old road was open, but two men checked our names against a list before allowing us to proceed. I noticed that we drove almost to the old metal-framework bridge at Vincent's Crossing before turning onto the road to Will's house, and asked Alex about it. "Yeah, it's right there. The previous owner built a fantastic house and barndomenium but neglected the river. Will has had men and machinery working to clear it out, and we should have a view of the Rio about a hundred yards down the road on our left."

His distaste evident, Alex said, "The fools that own the two places across the bridge have neglected it. The metal frame is solid, but the wood is rotten and splintering. Won't be long before they and their rich hunters won't be able to get in or out. That's probably good; maybe they will sell out to Will, or someone who cares about the history they don't."

The intermittent floods (the weather in south Texas is best described as hot and dry, broken by intermittent floods) had changed the riverbed some, but the curve where we used to go swimming during the day and skinny dipping at night was still there, as was the sloping bank where blankets or towels were laid. That was on the other side, across from Will's property, which ended at mid-river.

A vision of Nita naked in the moonlight ran across my brain, quickly displaced by the vision of Shannon in the flickering firelight. She squeezed my leg, as if reading my mind.

The barndo was big, and a wide dividing 'alley' ran the length of the building between the studio and housing to the north, and the open corrals / pens to the south, was perfect for the songwriters, who set up in the middle so they would literally be surrounded by people. A young woman I didn't recognize but Shannon did was quietly tuning up and warming up her voice.

We set our chairs up behind the first two rows, near a horse pen, and set our ice chest along the pen fence. Brooke was drinking water, River and Katrina water with bourbon, and the rest of us were drinking beer out of the 48-quart chest.

Gary and Danny came through a door and spotted us - the rest of the BGH band wasn't in view. The talented musicians came over to shake hands and welcome us, sharing that the hosts were overseeing the cooking and serving crew's preparation of burgers, wieners, and brats, breads, condiments, and desserts. The charcoal pits were ready to be lit, and then they would join the steadily increasing crowd.

Seeing that the first singer, Dina, wasn't quite ready, Gary suggested we take a quick look at their quarters and the other accommodations the Callaghan's had added. Brooke and Alex decided to sit, and the rest of us followed Gary into the building. The housing area was nice, in that rustic way you'd expect for a barndomenium. Stained concrete floors throughout, with southwestern rugs in the living area and bedrooms, and distressed wooden paneling.

The wooden dining room table that seats twelve was a bar away from a stainless-steel kitchen, and across from the back of a massive couch that marked the living area. The pathway separating the table and couch led to the front entrance.

The bedrooms bordered on luxurious, as did the ensuite baths. It might be sheet metal outside, but it was very nice inside.

Instead of taking us back to the singing, he opened the front door and told us to come on; there was more to see. A veritable colony of 'tiny houses' was set up further up the hill. Seems their friends liked Cowtown, the ranch, and the state-of-the-art recording and video studios so well, they bought the little houses and paid for them to be set up and hooked up.

Gary led us around the barndo to the food prep area, and when he saw the hosts were gone, into the studio. None of us had any idea about the electronic gear he was raving about was, but he was proud as punch, so we played along.

Best I could tell from his descriptions, the equipment was state-of-the-art, it produced crystal clear music, and they had UHD video capability as well! Gary excitedly proclaimed they could take a song to the streaming services and video to the internet sites in the same day! We enthusiastically congratulated him, said we'd love to see them in action in the studio, and returned to the singers and our beer none the wiser, although what we heard sounded cool!

The young lady, Dina, sang several songs I liked, and a couple I didn't. I love folk, Americana, classic country, western, Blue Grass, traditional country going back to Jimmie Rogers, and outlaw country, so I'm not that hard to please. I enjoy some of the Red Dirt music and some of the 'new Texas artists,' but I draw the line at pop masquerading as country, and the Frankenstein mix of hip-hop country - oh God, NO!

Shannon was younger and from another culture, and neither pop country nor rap/hip-hop country sent her reeling. As she pointed out, in both high school and college the cheerleaders danced to some of the music I despise, to roaring responses from the crowd. I told her that the crowd wasn't roaring about the music.

She accepted my Sirius stations in lieu of radio stations that played "new country," but that was streaming in her Jeep quite often when we got in to go somewhere. To me, like "well done" rib eye steak, some things are just anti-godlin!

We listened to six artists, all excellent IMO, before it was announced the come-and-go meals were ready. The lines were quick to form so we waited and heard two more artists before we took our shots at what we hoped was a shorter line. I took a burger, but the cook insisted I try his home-made bratwurst and red cabbage too, so I had a full plate to balance on my chair.