The sun sending out its last strands of light before ducking below the distant land, I bounce into town sitting in the stage coach. Bouncing around with me is another lady, Mrs. Sarah Roundtree, though definitely not round, she is very prim and proper and stick thin. Her lithe body encased in several flowing layers of white and purple, around her neck a cameo held there with a silk ribbon. Bits of brown hair sticking out around her head where it had broken loose from either her hat, or the French braid.
In the dying light of the sun her hat sparkled atop her forehead, causing me to look a tad closer. Around the rim of her hat were hanging beads bouncing to and fro from the rather painfully bouncy ride we were forced to endure. Somehow she managed to look unconcerned with all of the bouncing we were doing, though I am sad to say I could not. The corset I was poured into restricted my breathing quite a great amount, and the bustle I am half sitting on, the rest sticking out behind me causing me to only actually sit on half the seat, digs into my hips.
Each bounce makes me groan and move back onto the seat as fully as I am able to dressed up in all this 'woman's wear.' I admit I look like quite a lady in this get up, except one problem, I'm not a lady. Why oh why did Dan decide to contract me to move way the heck away from Kansas City, I was making plenty of money at that bordello. But instead of getting to lay in that glorious silk sheeted bed with one of my regular's on top of me, I find myself all dolled up bouncing around in this forsaken rickety stage coach staring across at Mrs. Sarah Roundtree and having Mr. Johnson this overweight older man in a poorly pressed suit drooling all over me.
To be fair, he isn't ugly, his nose is a little large, face is a bit roundish in the way of a child or a heavy drinker's. Though a drinker I think he is not, he doesn't have a flask hidden away in his breast pocket, his cheeks aren't permanently red like a heavy drinker's would be. His hands actually are good sized, and his feet, he may very well have a good sized member tucked away in his pants, though at the moment it is hard to tell, his belly is large and droops over. Tucked into his pants it covers up whatever he may have down there, at least while sitting.
Perched next to Sarah is perhaps the reason I am contracted to come here, an oily fella if I ever did see one. His hair is perpetually slicked back, his skin shines in the light of the dying sun, heck it shines at any time there is light around. He is as Polly would say heavily oiled, and he has a strange air around him. He carries a bible and is always quoting from it, wears priest's clothes day and night it seems, I swear he sleeps and bathes in them. I can't be to sure of course, the stage is a proper one, and so is he at least when it comes to bathing and sleeping. He does however not have my line of work against me, I found that out last night.
We had stopped at a small farm to bathe, sleep, and eat, it was tiny like all the rest we stopped at on the way. This time though it was different, there was an actual family living there, instead of those drunken old men. They had a son, couldn't of been more than 20 summers, or what you round eyes call years. During the course of the dinner I couldn't help but look him up and down, Sarah did as well I could tell, but unlike me she was doing it on the sly. Me, I just stared at him roving my eyes all up and down that hot body of his, licked my lips even when I looked between his legs. He knew I was looking, he turned pink and kept his eyes downcast most of the meal. Still managed to look at my breasts, encased in these thick layers of 'women's wear' or not I knew he was liking his view.
At one point his mother Cassie had asked me why I was going to Longwood, I told her straight out, I was heading there because I had gotten a contract with Smiling Sally at the saloon. Well when I said that she gasped, her husband perked right up and their son I swear he seemed to shrink even more than he was. The rest of the people on the stage already knew that, naught anything to do but talk about each other and what was or had happened in the last town. Honestly I was getting tired of saying it, every time we stopped for the night whoever was running the place we stopped in would ask each of us where we were going and why. Lots of questions about what is happening in the last town we stopped in, sometimes they would tell us about what was going on in the next town if it was fairly close.
Shortly after I had told them why I was going to Longwood their son gulped down the last of his food and asked permission to leave the table so he could get the barn ready for the driver, male riders, and himself, I and Sarah would be sharing his bedroom in the loft. Shortly after he had left I finished my plate and had gone outside for a walk, doesn't do to not stretch your legs after a meal, especially when going by stage. The boy's father found me leaning over the posts for the horses.
I heard him coming, not hard when it's dark and a round eye, but still didn't bother to turn and face him. I figured better to just stay like that and see if he's wanting a bit of fun. Well he was, but not for himself, turns out their boy is a bit of a shy one and never had the pleasures of female company. I had known that right off, easy to spot those things when you deflower 5 boys a week in the summer. So after a little haggling, more for my amusement than anything else. I was thinking of joining the poor boy that evening anyway, I walked to the barn with 2 one dollar bills tucked into my pocket and a good sized grin on my face. Been nigh on a month since I deflowered my last boy and turned him into a man.
He didn't hear me come up the ladder, or move through the hay to his back, I swear round eyes are downright deaf and blind. I stood looking at his blonde head, his hair looking a bit like the hay he was manhandling into piles under blankets. Well in this case I guess boyhandling would be a better way to put it, at least for right now.
I undid the top coat, then the corset and the skirt setting each aside gently, so glad to be rid of that accursed bustle, luckily it's more attached to the dress than me, an arrangement Dan helped me with, at least a little.
He had come in one afternoon out of the blue carrying a few boxes then tossed them onto the wonderful silk sheeted bed. I was aghast, this metal half ball had a good sized set of what I took to be horse reigns on the flatter side of it. I looked at it, looked at him and started cursing him out. Made it plain in no uncertain terms I would not strap myself into that contraption. Eventually he left with it back in the box along with the skirt muttering. I didn't tell him everything that I thought though, the dress itself was lovely, delicate lace all over, wonderful paring of colors, all in all I was awestruck with what he had gotten for me.
When he had returned there was a larger box, inside lay the skirt, except this time it was bunched up in a huge ball, or so I thought until he pulled it out. I don't know what he told the seamstress, but she had sewn the bustle into the skirt. Well sorta sewn, what she did was sew straps into the skirt and tied the bustle up with those straps. When I saw this, I couldn't help myself, I jumped in those strong arms of his and pressed my face right up to him. Hoped for a kiss, but instead I leaned a little closer and whispered into his ear thanks and I love the dress.
All of this left my mind as I placed the bustle strussed up in a skirt to the side and walked up to the boy soon to be a man, dressed in only a white camisole and bloomers. He jumped practically through the roof as I lay my hands on his shoulder, wrapping him up in my arms I lean in and whisper in his ear.
At my soft words he relaxes in my arms and I wrap my arms fully around him, well I try, but can't quite make it. My heart gives a little lurch at this, it's been long since I lay with a man so large that was not fattened.
