Rough Sex In Her Lonely Cabin
by Kitty Meaker
Copyright Kitty Meaker 2012
Published at Smashwords
The cowboy had been chasing the bandits for two days. There were four of them when he started after them. One he shot out of the saddle outside of Washton, the other had a horse break a leg. The cowboy rode him down and pursued the other two.
There was a small cabin up and a creek up ahead. The cowboy could tell from their dust trail that the bandits were going to stop and make a stand here. Likely in the brush around the creek. The house would've been a better spot to defend, but the cowboy knew they feared being boxed in. It wasn't fear of anyone inside. They had already killed the sheriff that had tried to stop their brazen bank robbery. The men were ruthless. They were now wanted for murder, and would do whatever it took to stay free.
The cowboy approached the house. He'd have to make his stand from the inside. He tied his horse to a post and approached the front door. He knocked loudly, and the door swung open with his knock. The cowboy stepped inside.
“I'm here on account of there's two murderers in yonder creek!” he called to anybody who might be waiting inside. “I can't get to 'em any other way but to shoot it out from here! I apologize for intruding on your business, but iffen I wasn't in here I reckon it'd be them instead!”
The cowboy waited for a reply, but there wasn't one. The place appeared to be empty, though there were signs that somebody had been here recently. The cowboy saw two small windows in the wall facing the creek. Good. He'd have a chance at surviving this shootout.
The cowboy approached the left window cautiously. Wrapping a rag around his hand, he busted the window, and immediately heard answering shots from the creek bed. Moving to the other window, he broke it as well. Now they'd have to watch both windows.
The cowboy waited, but the bandits had apparently realized their predicament and were holding their fire. If they were smart, they'd each watch one window. If they were stupid, or made stupid from fear and panic, they'd die.
The cowboy grabbed a blackened candlestick from a nearby table. He slowly raised it to the left window. The bandits held their fire. He slowly lowered the candlestick. That didn't mean much, he knew. They could have guessed his ruse and were waiting for him to expose himself in the open window. But the cowboy had no other option.
He raised himself to the window and slowly raised his rifle up. With his eyes barely above the window frame, he scanned the horizon for any sign of the bandits. Then, a flash of movement. He had been spotted, but the bandit was too slow. The cowboy let loose a shot, and threw himself to the floor.
Answering shots rang out immediately, but the cowboy heard fewer than there had been before. There was only one rifle being fired, and the cowboy knew he had hit his man.
The rifle shots stopped, and the cowboy waited. An injured man could bleed to death, or his partner could make a run for it. The cowboy heard a loud whinny, and knew the man was trying to run. He stood up quickly and saw the bandit mounting the horse in the distance. He aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger. In the distance, the man toppled from the horse. Then, the cowboy felt a sharp sting in his left arm, and was flung backwards onto the cabin floor. The bandit hadn't bled out, he realized. The cowboy tried to stand up. If he passed out, the bandits might come into the house and finish the job. He struggled again to stand, but it was no good. The cowboy collapsed against the floor, unconscious.
* * *
The cowboy woke to a moist rag on his brow. He blinked his eyes and looked up. A woman, sitting on a stool. She met his eyes and smiled.
“About time you woke up.” she said.
“How long?” he asked.
She took his meaning. “Three days. You had a fever. I treated your wound, and there isn't an infection. Fever seems to be breaking, though.”
“The bandits?” he asked.
“The one fled on horseback. The other died in the creek bed. I haven't seen anyone since.”
“You were?” he asked.
“I was under the bed since I saw them ride up. I stayed hidden when you came in. They never saw me.”
The cowboy nodded. “Good.” He looked around the small cabin. “Family?”
“My husband's off to war. I had a girl, but...” she motioned vaguely, and the cowboy knew she meant the girl had been buried.
“Sorry for that.” he said.
“It's alright.” she said. “She was young. It would've been harder if she'd been older.”
“You live here alone, then?”
“For some time now, yes.”
“Hard being a woman out here alone.” the cowboy said.
“Hard being a man out here alone too, or so I'd imagine.”
The cowboy grunted in agreement. He shifted in his bed, and tried to move his injured arm. It was an effort, and he soon found his limits. The arm would take more time to heal. He raised his good arm to his neck and scratched at his neck, surprised by the itchy growth.
“You have been asleep for three days, you know.” the woman said.
“I suppose my beard doesn't stop growing just because I'm out cold.” the cowboy said.
“I'd suppose not.” The woman stood up. “My husband, before he left, liked for me to shave his face.”
The cowboy said nothing.
“I could shave your face, for you... if you'd like?”
“I reckon I could sit still for it.” the cowboy said.
The woman smiled. “Alright, then. You just stay there.” She went to a cupboard and found a razor and shaving soap.
She sat down and wet his face with her rag. The cowboy closed his eyes and breathed evenly as she lathered his stubble. The woman held the razor in her delicate hands as she carefully removed his beard, stroke by stroke. After removing the last of the man's facial hair, she wiped him clean, and admired his ruggedly handsome features. Unconsciously, she stroked his cheek.
The cowboy opened his eyes, and they drilled into her. The woman realized what she was doing, and pulled her hand back with a start. The cowboy's hand reached up and found her wrist, guiding the woman's hand back to his face.
Reluctantly, she ran her hand over his cheeks, his chin, his lips. Her heart pounded. Her husband had been gone so long.
He caught her eyes and directed his gaze downwards. She followed it, and gasped at what she saw. His manhood was tenting the thin sheet, and seemed to be pulsing with urgent need. Her eyes went back to his, and they seemed to have changed somehow. He seemed to be commanding her, without words, to take care of his need.
As if in a trance, she rose. She pulled back the thin sheet, and unlaced his pants. Pulling them to his knees, she gasped again as his thick manhood sprung forward. The woman had never seen anything like it. His member stood rock hard above a dense thatch of pubic hair. She could see the fluid of his arousal beading at the tip. As if waiting for her gaze, the bead broke and began to work its way slowly down his shaft. Compelled by lust, the woman bent her head to his shaft and caught the drop with her tongue.
The woman grasped him with her hand and lowered her mouth onto him. His salty fluids tasted strong on her tongue, and she moaned lustily into his member. She worked her hand and mouth on his shaft, and he seemed to stiffen even further in the heat of her mouth. With her spare hand she grasped at her breast, kneading it through her thin dress. The cowboy groaned with arousal, and she knew his time was near. Pulling her mouth off him, she began to stroke him rapidly. All too soon he had reached his peak. He shot his load on his belly in hard spurts, giving hard groans with each emission. Finally, he was spent. She allowed his softening cock to drop, and licked her hand clean.
“One second.” she said. “I'll clean you off.”
She took her rag and wet it. Wringing it out, she then dabbed at his cock and stomach, cleaning up the messy remains of his explosive orgasm. When she was done, she looked up at his face. The cowboy was already asleep.
* * *
Hours later, the cowboy woke. He could smell food cooking, and looked across the small cabin to see the woman preparing a meal. He stared at her a long time before she glanced his way, then she smiled at him.
“I'm glad you're awake.” she said. She scraped the food onto a plate and brought it to him.
The cowboy sat up painfully, his injured arm throbbing.
“I thought you should eat something.” the woman said, holding out the plate.
The man took it with his good hand, and tried to raise his other hand to grab the fork. He struggled to lift his arm, then he ran out of strength and it fell limply against the bed.
“Oh!” the woman said. “You must be too weak. Here, give me the plate. I'll feed you.”
The cowboy handed the plate back to her, and she put a bit of egg on the fork. Slowly she fed him, their eyes meeting between bites. Finally, he finished the meal.
“Thanks.” he said simply.
“You needed to eat.” she said.
She put the plate to the side and looked at him.
“Where did you come from?” she asked.
“Here and there.” he said.
“Tell me.” she said. “I want to know more about you.”
The cowboy scratched his nose and gave her a long look. “Not much to know. My mother died when I was young. My father never wanted me. Threw me out when I was sixteen. I joined the army for a spell, got tired of routine. Took my leave, started doing whatever job I could. Found myself reasonable good at catching things, so I started doing that. Men lose their cattle to someone else, I find 'em. Men cross the law, I find 'em. I do alright. I don't have worries on me like I did before.”
“Doesn't it get lonely?” she asked. “Don't you ever want a wife?”
“Sure, it gets lonely.” he said. “But there's always people on the road.”
“But you won't meet a woman on the road.” she said.
He gave a low chuckle. “You meet all sorts of women on the road.”
She blushed. “Well, maybe so. But still, don't you want a wife someday? To have children?”
“A wife would tie me down. What would I do for her? I'm not suited for any real work. I'd be away all the time. I couldn't raise any children. What about you? Your husband's off fighting in the war. Wouldn't you rather have him here?”
She nodded. “I would. I miss him terribly. The neighbors ride out every now and then, but it's lonely out here. It was different when I had the baby, but now...” she trailed off. Tears welled at her eyes.
“I didn't mean to make you cry.” the cowboy said apologetically.
The woman sniffled. “It's alright.” she looked at the man. “Could I get into bed with you? Could you hold me for a while?”
The cowboy nodded. The woman slipped under the sheet and looked at him. He grasped her in his strong arms and held her tight.
She buried her head in his chest. His musky scent filled her nose, and she soon drifted off to sleep. The cowboy held her in his arms and soon fell asleep himself.
* * *
When he awoke, he found the woman staring at him. The light of the setting sun streamed in through the window as their eyes drilled into each other. Slowly, she moved her lips forward to his. He met her kiss, and pulled her against his body passionately.
They embraced, and she traced her fingers along the curve of his back.
“I want you to take off your dress.” he said.
She pulled away from him, and stood. She pulled her dress off, revealing the young body underneath. Her breasts were firm and tight, high on her chest. A slightly curving belly was the only clue her body showed that she had been a mother, and it sloped gently down to the dark tangle between her legs, which concealed her sex from him. She got back into the bed and crawled up to him. Embracing each other again, the cowboy's hand found her breast and fondled it eagerly. Their tongues crossed over each other as reached down to find his member. Unlacing his pants, she loosed his hardening prick and began to stroke it. Soon enough, he pushed her onto her back. Kneeling above her belly, he allowed her to stroke his cock while he traced her body with his rugged hands, savoring the feel of her young, unblemished skin. His rough hands found her nipples and toyed with them, causing her to moan with pleasure.
Her hand clasped his hard buttocks, and explored the muscles of his legs, his abdomen.
She thought of something she could do for this man. Her husband had done it for her once, long ago. She took her finger in her mouth and sucked on it. She then placed it against his opening, rubbing softly.
“Can I?” she asked.
She felt him relax his opening, and she slipped her finger inside him. He gasped, and she could feel his body shudder. She began to fuck the cowboy with her hand, stroking his prick with the other. All too soon his breathing became ragged.
With a groan, he came hard, splashing against her chest and face. She closed her eyes and felt his warm release land on her body. When he was finished, she took her hand and dipped her fingers in the salty fluid, tasting him on her tongue. She cleaned herself off and returned to him. Embracing each other, they both drifted back to sleep.
* * *
In the night, the cowboy woke. He felt a presence in the dark next to him, and reached out. Under his hand, he felt the shape of the woman. She stirred, then woke.
“Can't sleep?” she asked.
“It feels like all I've done is sleep.” he said.
“You need rest to get better.”
“If I'm awake, doesn't that mean I'm getting better?”
“Maybe so.” she said.
“I'm sorry to wake you up.”
“Don't worry about it.” she said.
“I can sleep on the floor if you want.”
“It doesn't matter. I slept in the bed with you when you were sick.”
The cowboy lay there in silence. After a brief moment, the woman moved closer to him, and slipped her arm around his body. He felt her bare nipples, stiff in the cool night air, brush against his chest.
She held him close and sighed.
“It's been a long time since my husband was home.” she said.
The cowboy gave a non-committal grunt.
“He might not come back.” she said.
“You shouldn't say that.” the cowboy said.
He felt her hand moving down his side, across his belly. Reaching into his pants, she found his member and began to stroke it. Against his better judgment, he found himself growing erect. He pulled her hand out of his pants, and unlaced them. Pulling them off, he tossed them to the floor and turned over. She grasped his exposed hardness in his hand and her mouth found his. They kissed lustily as his hand found her own secret spot. They moaned into each others mouths as each stroked the other. Finally, she couldn't contain herself any longer. She pushed the cowboy onto his back and mounted him, slipping his cock deep into her wetness.
She gave a shuddering gasp as she was filled by his thickness. The man put his hand to her button and began to massage it insistently as she rode him. Grinding herself against his stiff rod and insistent hand, she moaned lustily. She grasped her breasts between her hands and pulled at her nipples. They grew to stiff peaks as she teased them. It wasn't enough. “Put your hands on my tits!” she cried out.
The cowboy obliged, bringing his rough hands to her breasts. He teased and pinched at her nipples, and her own hand found her button and rubbed at it frantically. All too soon she found herself on the edge of a climax.
“Come with me!” she shouted. “Come inside me!”
Her orgasm washed over her in a powerful wave. She clamped tightly on his stiff cock. As she reached her highest peak, she heard him groan, and felt his seed began to surge inside her. They joined hands as they came together, man and woman. Finally they both came down from their orgasms, and the woman collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She lay her head on his chest and listened to his deep breaths, wanting this to last forever.
* * *
The woman awoke in the morning light. The smell of food came to her. She looked over at the stove. The cowboy was cooking a meal for her. He brought her a plate. She took it and ate slowly.
“Thank you.” she said.
“You're welcome.” he said.
“You know, I don't know your name.”
“Jake.” the man said.
“I'm Clara.” she said.
“That's a good name.”
“Jake... you know, I haven't had a letter from my husband in over a year. I don't know if he'll ever come back. In my mind, he's long been gone.”
Jake nodded slowly.
“I wonder... would you like to stay here? With me?”
Jake sat on the bed and pulled her close. “Alright, Clara.” he said. “I'll stay.”
She held him tight. “Alright, then.”
Excerpt from “Disciplined By The Professor” by Kitty Meaker
Veronica felt a sudden slap on her ass, and cried out in shock.
Professor Brand waited, then said, “Since you did not count that stroke, I will start over.”
“W-wait, sir! Please!” Veronica cried.
Professor Brand ignored her and delivered another stinging smack.
“Oooh!” Veronica cried. “O-one!”
“Very good.” Professor Brand said. “I see that hard discipline does motivate you to learn.” He delivered another smack.
“Ouch! Two!” Veronica said.
“I'd like you to say thank you after each stroke, Miss Shaw.” the stern instructor said. “Give the count, and then say 'Thank you, sir.'” Professor Brand delivered another hard smack to Veronica's ass.
“T-three! Th-thank you, sir!” Veronica cried, fighting back tears...
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