Total Woman Odyssey Ch 02

The first portion of this story was previously published as part of Total Woman Trainers Ch. 06. I have republished it here with some changes and continued into an expanded story. Please vote, comment, and enjoy.

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** Brenda Bradford 01

Tom Crawford sat behind his big desk. Bob Bradford, his friend and business collaborator, sat across from him. They had discussed their latest business venture. Bob had purchased some adjacent acreage with his past profits and Tom had gained the oil leases on the expanding parcels of Bob's modestly successful horse and cattle ranch.

Tom was feeling jolly about their state of affairs and offered Bob a celebratory cigar.

"No thanks, you know I don't smoke."

"Or drink, you teetotaler. Mind if I do?"

"Nah, go ahead."

Bob seemed subdued today, concerning Tom. He liked their arrangement and wanted his friend to be happy.

"Everything okay at the ranch?"

Bob sighed, "Yeah, but I'm worried about Brenda."

"What's up?

"She's going to Casper College now, just as I promised her late mother. But I don't like the look of things. She's hanging out at the state fairgrounds with that bunch of rowdy cowboys. I was just a cowpoke myself, yet her mother married me anyway. But then I got lucky when you found oil on my smallholdings."

"And made us both a shitload of money!"

"Yeah, thanks. But luck's a fickle thing and Brenda may not get any more out of life than a ranch hand cowboy and a bunch of kids. I want more for her. She deserves better than that."

Tom leaned back and blew a puff of bluish smoke at the ceiling. He had seen Brenda grow up after her mother passed away, a little wild without an adult woman's guiding hand at home. He found the buxom lass quite alluring and even now, his cock gave a twitch. But he always followed the sometimes silly rule about never fishing off the company dock. It was bad for business.

But maybe there was another way. Tom, the oil and cattle magnate, unknown to Bob or any of his local friends, was a TWA Pledge Contributor, and his cock twitched at another thought of Brenda joining him in bed. She was a vivacious pretty young woman, and he imagined anew the carnal possibilities.

"So Bob, what if she transfers to another college out of town, or even out of state, something upscale, mingled on-campus with men of substance and stature?"

"As good as that sounds, Tom, I'm getting along okay but I don't have the available money for that. You know: land rich but cash poor."

"Leave it to me, my friend, I know of scholarships available for worthy young coeds. Let me make some calls and see what I can arrange."

"Thanks, Tom. I really appreciate your interest in Brenda's development. You're a good friend."

"Not at all, Bob. Leave the details to me. I'll take care of everything."

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A few weeks later, the TWA G280 business jet sliced the blue sky above the prairie.

"KCPR Business Airport, Casper Control, this is TWA 001 requesting a vector for landing."

"TWA 001, proceed to the outer marker for Runway 8/21, winds from the northwest at 25 MPH. Welcome to the Cowboy State, darling."

Krystal grimaced. 'Darling? Not cowgirl or prairie bunny? This guy's game is lame.'

Krystal keyed the jet's intercom.

"Ten minutes to touchdown, sir. Please buckle in."

Ned buckled in. The sparse grass and flat terrain rose up towards him. They crossed the outer edge of the concrete runway and the jet nose tilted up as the wing wheels bumped down. The nose wheel connected with mother earth and the plane slowed swiftly when Krystal reversed thrust. It was a short taxi to the small craft terminal.

She shut down the engines, trotted down the foldout stairs first, and made the arrangements for tomorrow's mid-morning takeoff. The ground crew promised to have the jet ready to go for the 'darling' blonde pilot.

She got Ned settled in the black town car and followed directions down US29 towards the Central Wyoming Fairgrounds.

He thumbed again through Brenda's briefing packet. Her father was anxious for Brenda to escape the remote cattle range, to find more than a broke down cowboy and a herd of kids. He wanted her to rise up in the world and stake a claim to a better life.

Brenda had been approached by TWA Recruitment and they pledged her to not share the scholarship details with her widowed father. He would only know that his oil lease business associate had located for her a scholarship for an innovative academy.

Ned knew her father's secret TWA Pledge Contributor associate was sponsoring his business friend's brunette daughter for the scholarship, and that the father implicitly trusted his friend, dampening his curiosity.

Ned and Krystal found Brenda, the amateur rodeo clown, still in costume: face painted, baggy dungarees, oversized plaid shirt, dusty hair, and cloggy boots. She was hanging with the local young cowboys after practice.

Krystal played hostess and introduced Ned, first to Brenda and then the young male crowd.

Each tall lean cowboy, at one time or another, had invited Brenda out, mostly to local cowboy bars with the ubiquitous bull-riding machines.

They all remembered that one time when an inebriated Brenda writhed on the slow-moving hump, inadvertent pantie and nipple flashes tantalizing the bar slackers. They were trying again for her attendance tonight but were put out when she declined their urgings and walked to the town car, escorted by the middle-aged Ned.

The jilted boys immediately turned to hit on bodacious Krystal who deflected their attention, claiming work duties all day.

"No, got work to do tonight. But just in case I'm free later, where's the party?"

"Buster's. You ever ride a bull, Cowgirl?" they jostled.

Krystal reimagined the question as not about a machine but a stud bull alpha male, prone in bed with his bulky cock solidly up her cunt as she ground her hips atop his groin.

"Sure, plenty of times."

"Well, I'd like to see how long you can last!"

Krystal thought the cocky young cowboy was cute. Maybe later tonight he would feel, rather than see, her bull riding talents, and she would see how long he could last.

Krystal dropped Ned and Brenda, still clad in her plaid shirt and blue jeans, at her ranch home outside of town.

Her father was absent, off in Jackson Hole, on a fly fishing weekend with Tom, a last-minute invitation. She knew her father loved fly fishing for trout in the bar channeled mountain streams during the day. She was less aware that he enjoyed fishing for barflies at night. Her father was widowed but he wasn't dead; he still liked the occasional roll in the hay.

Ned relaxed on the back porch, surveyed the prairie spread out to the horizon. Small herds of cattle and horses leisurely grazed among the oil well pump jacks.

Brenda set up the charcoal grill and added thick steaks, the smoke rolling out from under the barbeque cover. He heard her fuzzing with other meal courses in the kitchen. She popped her head out the kitchen door.

"I need to clean up and change. Can you watch the steaks?"

He turned them often, letting them turn juicily brown, smelling the fat sizzle. He moved them to the platter, placed them inside, and returned to enjoy the prairie sundown. His half an hour of cooking and quiet was broken by her plaintive dinner summons.

"Come and get it!"

Ned tracked inside and followed the smell of food to the ranch house dining room. Its wood-paneled walls were decorated with stuffed animal trophies around the roughhewn table and chairs.

There stood Brenda, and Ned was stunned by the transformation. From her shiny neat hair to her long legs stretching below the short dress hem, she had trans-morphed into a preppy wholesome Casper College student. The little black spaghetti strap dress, high heels, preppy face makeup, and modest jewelry were picture perfect.

'Come and get it' suddenly took on a different meaning. She graciously guided him to a seat and sat on the other side of the narrower dimension.

The charcoal steaks were sumptuous, with bread and salad and warm spicy apple pie for dessert. Her generous cleavage also spiced the atmosphere, jiggly invitingly when she laughed.

During the meal, Ned conducted the initial light conversation to start her Evaluation Assessment interview. He queried her details and life goals. Her conversation and manners were gentile and erudite.

Her Associate's Studies were just like everyone else's in these parts: Agribusiness, the classic Central Wyoming curriculum for a land full of cattle, horses, and oil. She saw the elite academy scholarship as an opening to higher career possibilities with more refined topics like Human Relations, Anatomy, and Hospitality.

Ned heard her wish list but in his mind, he thought Sexual Relations, Erotic Anatomy, and Alpha Male Hospitality. He told her that her looming education would include staff and visiting lecturers providing her deep lessons in all those topics. He warmed to her forthright answers, providing an opportunity to Segway into the real meat of the interview.

She liked all sex positions, claimed sensitive nipples, orgasmed easily. She practiced feminine genital hygiene, used a shaver. Her glamor cosmetic skills were limited here on the range with few chances to use them. Ned assured her she would assimilate those talents and much more at the Academy.

He saw Brenda in a different light, seeing beyond her outward unsophisticated rowdiness, perceiving a wild heart inside a cultured young woman.

The dishes were abandoned on the table as Ned took her hand and ascended the stairs to her bedroom suite. It was a natural thing, no more questions needed, just a move from the verbal interview to the next level of intimacy.

They were unhesitant about stripping each other completely. He twirled her panties playfully on a finger, his arm high like twirling a lasso. He tossed them on his pile of clothes, staking his claim to his traditional souvenir and memento of an interview.

Brenda stood calmly, watched his rodeo pantomime, awaiting his lead in the next stage of this uncommon interview. And he provided it, broaching the obvious question.

"What's all this talk about bull riding?"

"It's not all talk. Let me show you how we do it."

Brenda pushed him on the bed. She smiled and leaned over his groin, her silky hair brushing his cock as she noodled around until her lips found his knob. She proficiently sucked him to a full standing erection.

Mounting up, she recreated her infamous bull riding burlesque, one hand waving over her head for balance as the other braced on his chest. She writhed her hips on the genuine stud bull wedged between her legs, using his embedded cock as a pinion. Her tits wobbled freely, her pussy massaging his erection in all the right places.

Ned manhandled her bouncing boobs and too soon hollered his semen into her womb.

Throughout the remaining night, she demonstrated her other agilities at sucking, missionary, and doggy sex. The fucking was accompanied by nature's outdoor symphony of prairie dog whistles and a coyote answering one of Ned's howls of delight during a particular solid burst of orgasm.

Once, when they fucked in missionary and when he was pressing her farthest feminine depth, at the very moment of spew, she probed his open mouth with her tongue. She tickled his gums behind his front teeth, as her cervix rubbed his cock tip. It was the hardest cum Ned had experienced in a long time.

They rose early the next morning, and after an energy renewing breakfast, dressed in casual riding clothes. Brenda toured Ned through the barns and stables, where they saddled a pair of horses for a ride along the edges of the ranch.

The early spring sun grew warm quickly and she took off her shirt, going topless away from the homestead. Her breasts bouncing to the pace of the trotting horse as they followed a side trail into Rotary Park.

They stopped at the waterfall, hobbled the horses who found sprigs of grass to munch. They sat on a viewing area bench. Ned beheld the overlook vistas spread out towards the city.

He perceived Brenda kneeling and opening his pants. He let her perform an affectionate blowjob while he watched hawks soar high over the foothills. He spewed pleasantly as he watched the idyllic scenery and she swallowed his ejaculated cum.

They rode double back to the ranch, her naked, and him bare-chested. The horse's slow gait wobbled Brenda's breasts against Ned's back as they led her horse along on a halter. She opened his pants and exposed him. Her hands cupped his soft cock and balls dangling between his splayed thighs but got no effective reaction from Ned's weary manhood. But her naked pussy against the moving oiled saddle leather felt good. She closed her eyes and enjoyed a mild orgasm, hugging Ned's body and kissing the back of his neck in the afterglow.

They put the horses in the corral, dressed, and ate a light lunch on the back porch. The Evaluation Assessment had run its course.

She sadly escorted Ned to the town car that had arrived during their naked morning ride, waiting in the driveway, but apparently unattended. He heard a dual cry of pleasure from inside. He rapped on the dark tinted window and heard the sudden bustle of its occupants.

The far rear door popped open and a lean cowboy struggled out to his feet, pants unbuckled, working feverously to zip up his blue jeans fly. A pair of white panties dangled from his hip pocket.

A disheveled Krystal tumbled out behind him, tucking her big tits into her uniform blouse and jacket, and smoothing her skirt back over her bare ass. The cowboy tipped his hat to Ned.

"Sorry, sir, we're running a little late."

Grinning, Ned shook his head in wonder. Or, actually, no wonder at all.

"It's okay. A last one for the road, Krystal?"

"Yes, sir."

His chauffeur grabbed the cowboy's open shirt collars and dragged his face down to hers for a smothering 'goodbye' kiss.

Set free, the cowboy tipped his hat again and hustled towards the stable, embarrassed at being busted by the boss man's daughter. Brenda called after the retreating farmhand.

"Go on, Bucky. The horses in the corral need feed and water. Hurry up."

Krystal came around and opened the nearside door for Ned. He leaned over and took a parting kiss from Brenda before loading himself into the town car. Brenda offered a caution to the chauffeur.

"Careful, ma'am. That cowboy's as wild as an unbroken mustang."

Krystal took a last longing look at the fleeing Bucky and mumbled a giggle under her breath, fanning her forehead.

"Yeah, I know..."

The young women shared the laugh.

As Krystal wheeled them to the airport, Ned thought of the potentials in life awaiting the magnificent Brenda, and her eventual short-lived shock when faced with worldly realities on the day she encountered her familiar benefactor. Tom and his TWA Pledge Contributor Coach Tutor buddies would help Brenda ride happy trails towards a bright horizon, as they rode her body to brilliant gratifications.

Before exiting the town car at the airport, Ned directed Krystal to make the computer entries that would approve Brenda for enrollment at the Total Woman Academy.

** Brenda Bradford 02

Brenda took a longing last look around the family ranch house before she walked from its porch to the driveway. A small gathering of familiar faces waited to wish her 'good luck' and 'farewell'. The waiting men were bemused by her impressive fashion change. Gone were the farmworker and rodeo clown duds of blue jeans, baggy shirts, and boots.

She presented her nattily dressed self in a fashionable skirt, blouse, and blazer. But she couldn't bear to relinquish her cowboy boots.

Bucky, the young farmhand, held the reins of her two favorite horses. The mare and its colt had been the 4H prize-winning pair that she had raised during her teenage years. She fondly nuzzled the animals farewell.

Her father, Bob, saw in his daughter the beauty reminiscent of his late wife, her mother, and it brought tears to his eyes. She would have been so proud of their daughter. He had strived these many years to raise her right, being her sole parent through the adolescent and teenage times, but he had been sorely tested as she matured to rowdy young womanhood.

He fretted for her future. He wanted her to become a real lady, with graces and talents that could only be acquired beyond the confines of the rural ranch, far away from the oil and prairie lands of central Wyoming.

Still, he played the stoic Western rancher as he hugged her goodbye; it might be years before she came home from her year-round studies at the enigmatic elite school.

Bob's close friend and business collaborator, 'Uncle' Tom, gave her a farewell that might have seemed a bit too friendly. His hand clutched her ass under the skirt, his tight hug compressed her boobs against his chest. He pressed his cheek to hers and whispered an odd and boding "see you soon" in her ear.

Diego, her TWA Escorting Coach Tutor, had stood back but now impatiently sauntered to the family group. He took Brenda's bicep gently but firmly and offered his polite farewell to the three men who were passing the young lady into his care for the propitious journey. Bucky help load the luggage and closed the sports car trunk. Diego held her door graciously as she sat in the passenger seat.

As Diego wheeled them away, she climbed up in the convertible's seat and waved vigorously until the waving paternal men she was leaving behind were out of sight. She faced forward again as Diego drove the sports car, headed down the Front Range and along the Rio Grande valley towards their San Antonio destination, several days, and nights, away.

Diego was not talkative and she listened to iTunes and watched the passing scenery. It was a full day's travel and, late in the afternoon, they were ready for a scheduled break from the road. Their first overnight stop was the Great Sand Dunes National Park at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountain Range.

They played the tourists, rambling in the mounded sands, slipping frequently with tussle grabs and playful wrestling. Tired and jovial, they drove over to their pre-booked Taos Bed and Breakfast. That evening they enjoyed a local outdoor evening Hispanic cuisine, guitar music lilting the atmosphere as they ate, drank, and engaged in 'get acquainted' chit chat.

The return to the guest cabin afforded Diego his first real opportunity to engage in 'get acquainted' sex. He took macho control of the sexual intercourse, driving Brenda through multiple ecstasies. She peaked on an initial cunnilingus, then withstood a missionary pounding timed by him for his selfish enjoyment but which consequently produced mutual bliss for her.

Her orgasms with this talented Latino were nothing like her experiences with her rodeo cowboy fuck-mates. They seemed to have treated sex like a 'quick draw' contest, testing who could shoot first; she rarely got her trigger pulled. Diego was a real man, earning his alpha male designation. At dawn, Brenda instigated more foreplay but he allowed her only a morning blowjob for him. She was left with a residual sex drive, feeling fervent and frustrated.

Diego rummaged through her packed luggage, disposing of much of her former life's apparel. He left her with toiletries, her riding boots, and a few other personal items. Then he handed over the pre-packaged wardrobe that TWA had provided for her Enrollment journey.

For today's drive, she wore booty shorts, a braless pokies-revealing crop top, and low heels, no panties.

Brenda wiggled and sighed in the passenger seat, simmering all day. When she moved a hand to stroke her traveling companion's inner thigh, he silently removed it. Further trials gained the same negative response.