Coyote Blossom

I.

Another day comes to the high desert. I'm walking around my late parents' property that I inherited when my siblings weren't interested in keeping it up. It's a cute ranch house with great acreage. Memories of my boyhood here have kept me going as I've closed my eyes inside those crowded city trains and busy offices. I've gone far and wide finding my own way, but the property has always been there.

Not many changes have come to the little town nearby, even with the chaos of the pandemic. The occasional traveler comes through, or at times a photographer wants to document our charming country lifestyle, but the relative distance from a major highway has kept us out of the limelight. Real estate costs aren't even crazy here.

My daily walk around the perimeter helps me see if any brush is growing too big. I also greet the coyotes, quail, ravens, and other wildlife. Mostly they are heard from a distance or seen in a sudden flash of shaking branches and leaves as they scamper off to avoid the tall human. I receive some glimpses of them, and that's always a joy.

I happen to have my phone with me outside when I feel a buzz. I become giddy, knowing damn well who it is. We're going to talk more, she'll be down here, and something big is going to happen this time. I just know it.

We're soon on the phone. She hasn't dated anyone. There's loneliness. The time in California affected her. I agree that it affected me, too, but life has to go on. I've returned to that little cowboy town I told her about a few times, the place my mannerisms come from. Out here, I take care of my online work and handle some business for a few hours. Then I pump iron with my dad's old weight set. It'd be fun to have someone to do all this with. We both know what we're really talking about. I'm hoping my words are as slick as melted butter.

What follows is a bunch of flight planning and more messages. She seems happier and more energetic as we chat again briefly before her arrival. She wants another picture of me. The latest one she has is a selfie of us walking down an idyllic street near the coast, palm trees in the background, carrying some groceries from the organic food store. I look at that picture a lot, too.

To comply with her request, I send her a shirtless photo of me wearing boots, combat pants, and the aviators again. I'm standing outside with a low ridge of dry hills in the distance behind me, peering at the phone camera which I had propped up and used a timer on. She responds that I look fantastic and includes a kiss emoji and a bear emoji. Of course, I just about lose it, but I only send her a polite note of thanks.

Work needs to be done before the lady arrives. I clear a lot of extra plant growth in the front acreage and take care of a drainage ditch that leads away from the house. We haven't seriously flooded before, but the flash floods can still hit at any time, and I don't need that happening. I get up on the roof to check for any leaks or loose asphalt shingles. There's great food in the kitchen, the laundry's all done, and I do some quick sweeping and vacuuming. I'd say we now have a pleasant oasis to relax in.

The airport pickup goes smoothly. Another big kiss on the cheek. This time she obviously smells me, placing her nose right on my neck and a bit down my shirt as we hug. I'm in a flannel button-up, jeans, and my trusted canvas shoes. The flat cap, the same one that's been on her dresser and her floor a bunch of times back in the city, is an attractive touch, too. She's adorable in a pair of tight jeans and floral blouse with classy heels. She seems quite country herself. Her hair is clipped up. We're both not bad to look at. An elderly couple nearby smiles at us right after we finish greeting each other.

On the drive home, the chatter is pleasant. We catch up on what's going on with life in the city. I normally don't follow all of this stuff closely, but hearing her discuss it is fun. She heals me with her presence. I see her admiring the beauty of the severe-looking rock formations and clusters of desert plants that we pass. We hold hands a lot of the way. When I need to have both hands on the wheel, she feels my leg. We're stopped at a light and she's talking about something, but my mind is focused on taking her hand in mine and giving it a little smooch.

Her bags go into my old bedroom for ease of storage. I give her a house tour that ends in the master suite. We stand in the bedroom and her nose is in my beard while I caress her hair. A sumptuous, elegant woman taken in by the warm embrace of a bear; her bear. I hang her clothes up, as well as mine, like a gentleman. Holding her nude is a profound pleasure, as are the lines of kisses I place on her forehead, breasts, and abdomen, right down to that beautifully shaved pussy. Once again in my bed, but this time in the lonesome expanse where I've awaited her, she opens her legs as my dripping tongue circles her vulva. The occasional darting motion enters her vagina, teasing the clit so lightly, and I'm returning to smelling and tasting her. I position myself so my head is pointed toward her feet and then move my whole body so my face is over hers. I bend my neck down and lick forward so the whole length of my tongue is sliding against her tongue. I take her whole chin in my mouth and suck on it, then continue the tongue-licking. Her soft moans drive me wild, as does the taste of her skin and mouth.

My throbbing dick then goes over her intricately soft lips as I'm moving above her with deliberate slowness. She can smell my balls and crotch, and I'm telling her I know she wants my soothing scent. Her mouth is as silky as her gorgeous pussy. The moisture welcomes me in. She's given me head before, but something about her technique hits so differently this time. I aim my dick into her throat so it's comfortable for both of us at just the right angle. We settle into a terrific sixty-nine, and I go at that hot slit with no restrictions now.

I rest my chin on the top of her clit and start to move across it as my tongue dips into her vagina along with my nose. Sure, clit stimulation can be great, but it's the pleasure given to her sweet love canal which produces those grunts and moans that are music to my ears. I'll drool a bunch in there and suck the juice mix back out, too. I can live off of eating her pussy.

She's slurping so well on my dick, and what I'm really loving is her throat muscles on my glans while her lips and cheek muscles work the base of my dick so well. The sensations travel deep into the penile base within my body. Again, she's great to experience when we're both right-side up, but in a sixty-nine, the mechanics of it are a treat. I can feel the desire in her movements.

The room is filled with moist sounds and muffled vocalizations. I dream of this being our morning routine. We'd be waking up to the clear desert morning, a beautiful view of the sunrise out my window as she and I are in bed, a married couple having the sex we want all the time. Then I lift weights, make breakfast, and do some work on the property. At midday, we take a stroll and meet the coyotes out in the maze of gulches past the property's fences. Later in the evening, we hit up the country western tour that's arrived in town, do some line dancing, and see all of the old gang again. What a perfect life that would be. It flashes in front of my eyes as the odor of her pussy fills my nostrils and the flavor of her body dances on my tongue.

I break out of the sixty-nine and position myself so I'm facing her again, laughingly saying hello to her as we engage in more kissing and caressing. I get the biggest kick out of hugs, and she reciprocates even more. There's a lot of kisses placed on her forehead. Making her feel safe is what matters to me. She must discern, at this point, how attached I am.

While I'm facing her, my dick has easily entered her again, and I study every one of her reactions to my thrusts. My heart bursts when she says she loves me, and I say it this time, too. She closes her eyes and looks so satisfied at this moment. I gently move my dick around in the best places for her inside, and ask her if she enjoys the sensation, because that's just one example of how I feel about her. She moans, nods, closes her eyes, opens them again, and concentrates some more. I need her to react to me.

These moments cause me to stop and wonder. Why am I like this? I can go from hooking up with the men in my rotation to enjoying this woman as if she's been my wife for decades and not even bat an eyelash about it. Maybe the answer is biological. I'm a male animal, and she's my mate.

I'm all the way on top of her now. She's grabbing my sizable ass, complimenting me on all the hard work I do around the property to make it rock-hard. I reward her with a really good thrust, tracing a line from where I think her spot is straight up to the edge of her cervix. She's leaning her head back and I'm licking up the front of her neck. A moan escapes from her as she says she's my wife and she belongs to me. I nod at her. That's exactly the way she'd better think of it. She's in my world. The lure of the city, with all that sophistication and money, melts away when she's got a man who wants to take her over completely. This is what matters in life. We can do what we want to, and need to, out here.

My eyes are closed. I'm sort of going off again. I speak of the long shadows under that sky at sunset, the call of the coyotes, the freezing winter wind and bracing summer sun. I've got her out here with me. She has all the space she needs to think. I'm speaking in between kisses and perfectly timed insertions and removals of my cock. She is letting out small squeals. Her mind seems to be going a million miles an hour. She says she's been dreaming of this place after I described it to her. I respond that it's not just a dream anymore.

We are locked in a kiss, our tongues and lips sliding around each other. She sticks hers out and I gently take it into my mouth as she grips my shaved head. The contrast is spellbinding. Bald, long hair. Taller, shorter. Hairy, smooth. Masculine, feminine.

I take more aggressive control with her head in my hands, reminding her she belongs to me. I thrust again and ask if she felt that in her wet, sloppy pussy, and she nods. Then I do it a slightly different way as I study her face some more. I watch how her eyelashes shift and how her breathing changes. Now that she's nice and relaxed with some good dick buried up in her, I can lay out what's going to change between us going forward. I tell her that she's been fucking herself, rubbing her clit and fingering her vagina, blasting herself with wands and dildos, but she's still so empty inside. She can hit up her contact list for a guy who only wants her pussy, or she can have this experience every day of her life with a man she desires from her innermost being. If she's going to do this bullshit, it's fine by me, because I'm on my own path and always have been. We can be here for decades playing this game with each other. She knows how I flood her cunt so my hormones straighten her out, then she leaves for a while and needs my dick again in a couple of months after dealing with those men in the city. She keeps apologizing. Good; she needs to be sorry. Something has to give, and I'm going to keep pushing. I know where this is headed towards.

The pummeling really starts. The bed is creaking and shaking, at times slamming into its foundation with a thud. I have one arm around her neck and with my other hand, I'm grabbing the metal railing at the head. I've created a palpable sense that we're not in the role-play anymore. She's completely trapped and loves it. I'm putting it all on the line now. I'm almost there, as I can sense what she's yearning to say to me. I need that one opening.

My penis rams against her innards. I can feel the slime, the wetness, and the silkiness, all as if it's spinning in a whirlpool. Her moaning is so insistent. She tells me to keep going. It is another entrapment of mine. The chess pieces are moving on the board again; a man's turn alternating with a woman's. Obvious, subtle. Logical, emotional. A soft, manicured hand moves one piece. A calloused, hairy hand moves the other. My heart and gut are beaming all of their energy at her to say the words. The climax begins.

She screams that she wants to have my child and wants me to marry her. That's it. I got her.

Then I yell at her not to move one fucking inch as I pound my seed deep, drenching her reproductive system. Every crevice is full of male fluid. My arms have her in a vice grip around her shoulders. Our sweat mixes. Mine drips down my ass, beads on my back, comes off of my brow. Hers glistens, accepting mine as it almost rains down. With the last spasms, my ejaculation is complete, and I'm able to remove myself, agonizingly dragging my cock out as she arches her body again from the stimulation.

We both lie on our sides. Instinct takes over and I rub her pussy, then bring my fingers to my nose. It smells right. I smear the mix of fluids onto my lips and beard, and repeat these actions. Then I reach under my drenched balls and rub the smelly sweat onto her face. I do the same with my ripe armpits.

I tell her I own her. She needs to cooperate. Do what I say. Listen to me. Life is very simple. Sit, stand, lie horizontal, a couple of other fun positions once in a while (we both laugh at that). If she does these things with me, we'll both be in a universe of contentment. Stuff will just come right out of the ether to us.

She says she understands and that she loves me. We hug protectively. Later on, our shower together turns into a drawn-out embrace as the water pours down. The steam is all around us and I'm holding her from behind, completely enraptured by, and absorbed in, my desire for her. I provide aftercare and checking-in, especially since this was a rough session for her. She enjoys how everything has gone and is fine with it continuing, so that's cool. Before we go to sleep, I change out the sheets. She brought a satin nightie for the cold, so I put on a pair of flannel pajama pants in order to be tasteful myself. We snap a selfie and I caption it about us being ready for bedtime, then I send it to her. We're smiling at the camera, my bicep framing her shoulders as she feels my chest hair. There's a knowing look in our eyes.

As with every night we've spent together, it's a fun sleepover with my best friend. We talk for a long while in bed as the desert moonlight pours in through the large window. She's up against my chest, my arm around her, both of us looking at the ceiling. Periods of conversation alternate with long, loving bouts of kissing. I get more mouthfuls of her titties, too, and she gets her nightie off for easier access. She's grinding on my dick through the pajama pants, so those need to be removed, too. So much for us ever wearing any clothes to bed.

More fucking ensues. She's ecstatic to make it official. I respond that I control her forever. I'm putting my children into her. Her body is a field which I plow how and when I want, and she must accept it. I will swim in her sexual fluids for the rest of my life. My genetic material and hormones will totally invade her, seeping right into her brain. I spit in her mouth and order her not to leave my fucking house anymore unless I say so, and she can forget about returning to live in the city, either. Her arms are twisted together with mine as I also grab the metal railing of the bed once more. The slamming of our hips is loud and hard. She groans and quivers in excitement while I thrust harder until we both come. My masculine grunting is accompanied by the sweet music of her moans and deep exhalations. As we calm down, she strokes my face and whispers how much she adores me.

I have her in my dreams that night, showing her more of the levels of reality I'm accessing, inviting her to enter them with me. I wish I could remember all of them.

II.

A basic straw cowboy hat, a patterned western shirt, and another pair of jeans. I don't have any cowboy boots I fit into properly, since my dad's feet were slightly smaller than mine and I never bought my own, but my combats still hold up the look nicely.

She, of course, looks great. She works magic with clips to raise her hair up impressively. Combining her accessories with another floral blouse and a denim skirt with black leather high-heeled sandals, she's incredible. I'm glad this town is mostly old traveling retirees and the occasional veteran, because otherwise I might be outcompeted, and I'm not here for that. Well, if she does see some hot cowboy, I'll make her role-play as him in bed while I pound her out. The rest of them can just look at this classy lady and weep.

The past couple of days are a blur of cooking, reading, conversation, walks, exploring around town, sex, and all that. Now it's time to hit up the concert. The country western tour, featuring a bunch of fiddlers, country-rock ensembles, and hooting and hollering line dance routines, has come to town. I'm not normally into this lifestyle, but I was raised around it, and I have to admit that it feels like home. It impresses her, and that's what matters.

The road is illuminated by that sunset lighting up the sky just the way I love it. I thought about it all the time in the city and on the coast, and now we're in it together. I tell her this, and she kisses my hand. If she can make a gay man's heart ache like this, I'm keeping her.

The venue is already surrounded by every manner of vehicle. I think some tour buses for the artists are nearby. Then you have some busted Toyota sedans, gleaming Fords, and even a bunch of dirt quads. We park far out and are greeted by someone hollering over on the other side of the impromptu parking lot. Still, the atmosphere is friendly. I open her door and help her out of the truck.

The music grows louder as we approach. I already recognize one of the veterans who lives in my area, so I wave at him. He shakes her hand with a friendly twinkle in his eye. His boyfriend is accompanying him and he greets her, too. Both look gobsmacked by her, and when she walks a bit ahead of us, they look at me and then at her with the biggest eyes you've ever seen. Almost every gay dude I've dealt with has loved it when one of us experiences a woman, let alone one so captivating.

I show our tickets on my phone at the entrance, and we're in. The older lady who gives us our wristbands says we both look cute enough to eat up with a spoon.

Three stages are going. I know some of the acts and start listing them out to her. There's a big emphasis on fiddles and line dancing, but plenty of steel guitar is being played, and some acoustic guitarists are in the mix, too. There are also lesser-known opening acts. She's seemingly amazed at this being where I come from, especially since I hide it so well. I'm a chameleon that way.

Beer is being served, but I buy us some water. I recognize two other people I went to school with. More introductions happen. She has her arm on my back and shakes everyone's hands, charming them with her beauty as she does with me. I rest my hand in the middle of her back as everyone is still chatting. This feels awesome.

The announcer calls out that it's time to assemble in front of the main stage, so we all join the rest of the huge crowd to arrange ourselves in position. I tell her to follow my lead and observe. And that half of these people are tipsy anyway. The crowd is a great mix, with only the occasional hottie, and she seems so out of her element she might not even be paying attention to them, anyway. Lots of Stetson hats stick out. Huge guts. Belt buckles the size of dinner plates. Smartphones are recording from the sidelines. This has suddenly turned into one of the largest line dances anyone has seen on this tour.