My name is Bridget, I am twenty-nine years old, and I have just wasted five years of my life on a no-account man. I worked two jobs to put his ass through law school and as soon as he passed the bar, he dumped me.
Daryl decided that the boss’s daughter would make a better trophy wife. It has been a month, I have licked my wounds, and tonight I have decided to prowl and find me a down and dirty cowboy who will rock my world, make me scream when I orgasm, and give me more than vanilla sex.
Yes, I have had enough vanilla sex and fake orgasms to last me a lifetime. I want what I have read about in those erotic stories people write on those online writing sites. The big question in my mind is are those real? I sure in the hell plan on finding out tonight.
I am heading to The Bull Rider, a country-western bar; a bar my neighbor told me is a pick-up bar. Nothing fancy, nothing upscale. As I get ready to head out, I took one more glance in the full-length mirror. I liked what I saw.
The short denim skirt that came down to mid-thigh made my legs look like they go on forever. The long-sleeve denim shirt buttoned halfway up showing off my red lacy camisole under which I am wearing a pushup strapless bra gives just a peek at my breasts. Looking at my ass, I see that it has just enough junk-in-the-trunk to make it attractive.
Overall, I am pleased with the way I look. I spritz myself one more time with my favorite perfume Lady Stetson, stuff my ID, money, and house key in the front pockets of my skirt, and go wait for the cab.
When I walk into the bar thirty minutes later I give myself time to let my eyes adjust to the smoky dimness. The band is playing Brooks & Dunn Boot Scooting Boogie and I find myself itching to get out on the dance floor. The bar is not too crowded yet but it is still early Friday evening. I make my way to the bar while surveying the area, taking note of any possible males I might want to score with that night,
As I take a seat on the bar stool my skirt rides up another couple of inches. I order a draft and when it is set in front of me, I pay the bartender. Taking a good drink, I relish in how much I have missed the taste of beer. There will be no more mixed drinks or champagne for me; that was part of the old life with Daryl.
I had just taken a drink and set the glass on the bar when I felt a hand grab mine and a deep voice say, “They are playing my favorite song, and you are dancing with me, sugar.”
I allowed him to pull me along with him to the dance floor. Once there he pulled me roughly in his arms, one hand on my back and one on my ass. I raised my head and found myself staring into a face sporting a cum-fuck-me smile and sexy baby blue eyes.
He had to have been at least six feet tall, with short dark hair and a black cowboy hat. The jeans he had on were so tightly molded to his firm ass and muscular legs they had to be painted on. The flannel shirt was unbuttoned just enough to give me a glimpse of his rock hard chest.
“Like what you see?” he whispered in my ear, “Say the word and you can see this whole body naked.”
The only drawback I could find was he was older than I was – several years older. Although he had all the criteria I was looking for in a down and dirty cowboy, I figured that at his age he would not have the stamina.
Not giving me a chance to saying anything he just pulled me closer to him and I could feel his hard-on pressing into me. Leaning down he whispered in my ear again, “My name is Clint and we are going to spend the night fucking our brains out so don’t fight it. Now, what is your name?”
I was taken aback by his bold statement and could not answer him for a minute, then said, “My name is Bridget. What makes you think we are going to do that?”
“Because when Clint wants something he gets it,” he stated matter-of-factly “and Clint wants to bury his seven inches of thick cock in every hole you have and fuck you in every position he can think of.”
Part of me wanted to pull out of his arms and slap his face but the other part of me knew that if I wanted to get down and dirty tonight, I was going to have to get used to being groped and crudely talked to. Clint slowly danced his way over to a darker part of the dance floor. With my back toward a darkened hallway, Clint’s hand slipped down and under my skirt grabbing my ass, squeezing it.
“You are either commando under that skirt or you are wearing a thong?” Clint asked. “Tell me or I will find out myself.”
“Thong,” I said softly
“And what is the color?”
“Red,” I answered
“So you ready to get out of here and go fuck?” he asked softly
“Clint, thanks for the slow dance but I came here to enjoy myself, not hook up with the first cowboy who asked me to dance,” I said
“Sure Bridget, “Clint told me. “Do whatever you want to do but no other man in this bar will ask you to fuck them,” Clint said confidently with a wicked grin on his face.
“And what makes you so damn sure?” I asked, getting a bit annoyed with his attitude. “Look, never mind answering the question because I really don’t give a damn. Thanks again for the dance but don’t bother asking me again.”
“Oh, but I want to answer you,” Clint said. “It is because you are my woman, the one I designated I was going to fuck tonight. I did that when I walked out on the dance floor with you and danced you into the darkness to grope your ass. They all knew then and any man who comes in now will know it. Therefore, Bridget, when you get tired of being turned down come find me. And if you ask me nicely to fuck you I might not turn you over my knee,” and with that, he strolled away.
I so wanted to throw my glass of beer at him but knew that would probably land me in jail. That is one place I did not want to spend Friday night. By one o’clock in the morning, I was ready to call it quits and head home. I had danced with several cowboys but none made my thong damp like Clint did.
Even though I flirted and let it be known what I wanted not one of them took the bait. Remembering I had left my cell phone at home, I drained my third glass of beer, deciding to ask the bartender to call me a cab.
“I have a cabin for the night. Finally ready to go get fucked?” the same deep voice asked as I started to climb off the barstool.
Eyeing him up and down, I told him, “No, decided to just go home. Besides, you are too old for me. You probably don’t have the stamina to give me what I want and need anyway so you just wasted money on a cabin.”
“You are a sassy bitch and as a reward, you have earned yourself an over-the-knee old fashioned spanking sometime tonight,” Clint told me. “And for your information, I am only thirty-nine and I have enough stamina to fuck you so much you will have trouble walking when you leave.”
I thought a moment, trying to decide if a night with this arrogant sex oozing man was worth it or was my bed more inviting. Before I could decide, he grabbed my hand and started to pull me toward a dark corridor. He opened the back door and headed to the cabins on the backside of The Bull Rider. Pulling a key from his pocket, he pulled me up the steps to the first one and unlocked the door.
As I opened my mouth to scream, Clint said, “Go ahead. No help will be coming. Screaming around here is commonplace… from hard fucks to ass spankings
Suddenly I had this picture of being taken against my will and I began to wish I had never come here. Once inside, he shut the door and pushed me against it, Grabbing my wrists I found them suspended above my head as Clint leaned down and kissed me hard, his tongue ramming itself in my mouth, seeking out mine. Pushing his body against mine, he ground his cock into my stomach, making sure that I could tell his cock was hard and pussy hungry.
Clint put his hand under my skirt and smiled when he realized my thong was wet. Pushing the front part aside he shoved two fingers into my wet pussy, finger fucking me hard, so unlike Daryl who thought that was only for cocks and nothing else. My pussy muscles seemed to have a mind of their own as they clenched around his fingers.
I was feeling a stirring down there I had never felt before but I liked it. I found myself moaning into his mouth. Suddenly he stopped and stepped back, unzipping his jeans.
“Get that fucking thong off now or I will rip it off,” Clint growled as he stroked himself.
I quickly shed my thong, leaving it where it dropped. Clint pushed my skirt up to my waist and grabbed me by the ass, shoving me back against the door. He put my one leg around his waist and motioned for me to do so with the other. Legs locked around his waist he drove his cock into my pussy, holding me against the door as he fucked me hard.
“Cum bitch!” Clint yelled, “I have wanted to fuck you all night.”
He kept driving it in harder and deeper than I have ever had, setting off a change reaction of feelings from my pussy throughout my entire body. I knew from my reading that this is what an orgasm was supposed to feel like and I embraced it completely, letting it take over my entire body.
As my body began to convulse I let out a scream and grabbed Clint’s hair giving a big yank as I ravished his mouth, our tongues frantically mating. Clint gave two more hard thrusts and shot his load, setting off another orgasm for me. I just felt that as hard as I was fucked I would have a sore bruised pussy in the morning.
Very slowly, he pulled out and let my feet down to the floor. They were so shaky I was not sure they would even support me. I just sank to the floor, cum and pussy juice leaking into the carpet. Clint stood there looking down at me, a sly look on his face.
“While you are down there, clean my cock, Bridget,” he ordered waving it at me.
I looked at his cock, dripping cum and pussy juice and shuddered. I was not taking that thing in my mouth. Hell, I never even had Daryl’s cock in my mouth. Clint grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me toward him, pushing his cock against my lips but I refused to open my mouth.
“Open your mouth, clean my cock or I will stripe your ass with my belt.” Clint said “And do not even think about biting me,” as he reached for his belt buckle with his free hand.