They said it was the worst spring snowstorm to hit the Texas panhandle in twenty years. I didnât know about that. All I knew, one minute I was driving, and the next minute I was off the road, into the ditch. If that pickup truck hadnât stopped, well, it would have been one long cold night. It would have been even colder, having my pissed off wife, Jenny, sitting there next to me. She had urged me to stop thirty miles back, in the last town. But I had ignored her advice. I was anxious to get to Las Vegas and the craps tables.
The two guys in the truck were nice enough. They looked at our car, buried up to the doors, and shook their heads. The older man said, âWe got nothinâ to pull you out. If we did, youâd skid off again anyway.â
âCould you give us a ride to the next town?â Jenny asked. I nodded along with her question.
The younger of the two men looked over my wifeâs pleading expression. We were dressed in light jackets and street shoes. He shook his head. âWe gotta get back to our line shack. This snow is supposed to get worse. We can take you with, put you up, I guess. You can call for a tow when this storm clears out.â
There was no choice to make. Standing there in the driving snow, the warm cab of the truck looked inviting. We all piled in and drove to the next exit off the freeway. The truck was noisy, so conversation was difficult. We did learn their shack was another dozen miles north. Jenny was squashed between the two strange men. I couldnât help noticing the younger man checking out my wife with frequent sideways looks. For Jenny, getting looks from strange men was nothing new.
She is a gorgeous package. Her long, blonde hair gets noticed first. Next come the deep blue eyes and the delicate face of an angel. Her perfect, round breasts, she carries right up there, proud. Her curves from the tits down are the final treat men get, as she walks past.
âMy name is Lucas,â the older one yelled above the engine noise. âAnd this young pup goes by the name Marty. We been down here for a week, riding fence for the Campbell Ranch. Food got low. We were down to some jerky and our last scoop of coffee. Storm caught us in town, gettinâ provisions.â
Marty nodded through his partnerâs speech. Jenny and I could only sit and look out at the wipers trying to keep up with the blowing snow. At least we wouldnât starve, I thought. And even a night with these characters sure beat our earlier situation.
We pulled up in front of an old structure. It looked like the bunkhouse from all those old western movies. A shallow porch stretched across the front. Lucas killed the engine. The howl of the wind replaced the roar we had grown used to on the trip. We all got out of the truck. The men pulled a half dozen grocery bags from behind the truck seat. Jenny and I followed them through the blowing snow to the door of the shack.
Snow swirled in behind us through the door, âShut the damn thing! Hard enough to stay warm in here!â The third man of the crew stood next to a glowing pot bellied stove. He was not happy.
âOh, shut up, Clete. We had to get through the damn door.â Lucas said in a stern voice.
The four of us stood there, Jenny and I taking in the rustic inside of the shack. Clete smiled when he realized my wife was a female. âWell, whatta we have here, a cute little belly warmer to help us pass the time?â
âThought I told you to shut up, Clete. That is no way to talk to a fine young lady. Jenny is her name. Sheâs married to this guy. Now say youâre sorry for being so damn crude.â Lucas stared down the other man.
Clete tried to look defiant. He failed and said, âSorry there, young missy. Guess I was just surprised to see a pretty lady come waltzinâ through the door.â
âThatâs all right,â Jenny said. âNo offense taken. Can I get a little closer to the stove? I got cold coming from the truck.â
Clete stepped back and motioned toward the stove. âSure, grab a chair.â
I Introduced myself. He shook my hand, squeezing hard and quick.
What was left of three wooden chairs were arranged around the stove. The backs were missing. I wondered if they had been the kindling for some past fire in the stove. Jenny took a seat farthest from Clete and looked back at me. Marty and Lucas were on the other side of a set of bunkbeds, tending to the provisions. I took the chair bottom next to my wife. The stove glowed red at the round part where the fire blazed. It threw off a lot of heat. We both had to shed our jackets.
The sight of Jennyâs erect nipples pressing out against her knit top was not lost on Clete. She wasnât wearing a bra. He stared and actually licked his lips. The slightly tense situation was interrupted by Lucas. He brushed past me carrying a big enamel coffee pot and placed it on the stove top. âLeast we can have some hot coffee.â
As he turned, his eyes stopped on the sight of Jennyâs chest. He finally looked up when she smiled at him. âSorry. But I gotta say, you are a damn fine woman to look at. Iâve been out here with these rough cobbs too long.â
The idea kind of snuck up on me. Looking at Jenny, I could imagine her laid out naked on one of the lower bunks. The thought of the four of us, taking turns fucking her to orgasm after orgasm, gave me a little tingle in my balls. I had always enjoyed reading the stories and letters in the menâs magazines. My favorites were the ones about a guy watching his wife get thoroughly used by a group of men.
I had even shared my fascination with Jenny a few times. She had played along, pretending my fingers or her vibrator were another man fucking her pussy, while she sucked my cock. I had always wondered how far she would go in a real situation. There wasnât much doubt about our cowboy hosts. They would go along in a New York minute.
My daydream was interrupted by the young guy, Marty. âLookee here,â he said holding up a bottle full of brown liquid. âWe got damn near a fifth of rye to Irish up that nasty coffee Lucas makes.â
âBitch about my coffee again, Iâll Irish up your sorry ass,â Lucas yelled from the far end of the shack.
Jenny and I traded looks. We hadnât been around the men long enough to know if they were kidding. Jenny turned to look at Lucas and said, âCan I help you with the food or something?â
âSure, if you got the chill off, I could use a hand.â
She got up and joined him at a shallow counter built into the far wall. He had the contents of the grocery bags unpacked. I was left with Clete, and Marty standing behind me. The old boy didnât waste time saying what was on his mind. âYou got yourself a fine little woman there, bub. Donât âspose youâd consider lettinâ us lonely cowboys have a little taste. Would pass the time real well from where Iâm sittinâ.â
I didnât know what to say to that. Clete was obviously dead serious. And his casual manner made it seem like a reasonable request. He had the same tone he probably used to ask someone to help him get his boots off. The ultimate practical man.
âAh, I donât think Jenny would go along with that quite so easy. She is pretty independent. She doesnât take orders very well either.â
Clete slapped his thigh lightly and leaned closer, âHell you say. Young Marty here has a bottle. We get her liquored up, she might just enjoy the attention. It ainât like sheâd miss a slice off a cut loaf.â
It took me a second to decipher his last comment. I almost smiled. I wondered what my Jenny would say. Having her hot little muff called a âcut loafâ might get her steamed in a hurry.
Old Clete couldnât know he was right about one thing. When Jenny got a few drinks in her, the wild side of her personality came out to play. I knew it would be a big risk to refuse him outright. A long cold night lay ahead. Spending it with an angry old cowboy didnât seem like a good idea. A solution came to me.
âLook, tell you what, you want to offer her something to drink, go ahead. If she decides to go along with your suggestion, well, itâs up to her. I wonât stand in the way. Fair enough?â
He thought it over, glancing between me and the stove. âOK, fair enough. And just so you know, I ainât never forced my affections on any woman. She says no, then no it is. I can live with that if she says so.â
Marty had been listening to the conversation. He put his hand on my shoulder and leaned down. âDonât worry there, podner. We may be on the crude side, compared to those fancy boys in the city. But we do know how to please a lady.â
That last simple phrase âplease a ladyâ got my attention. For the next ten minutes, it was like a tune repeating inside my head. It reminded me of certain times Jenny and I made love. She was insatiable. I would manage to get her to orgasm a half dozen times. I used my hard cock, and more often my tongue. But after the second time I got my rocks off, I was usually done for the night. Many of those nights I woke up later. The sound of Jennyâs vibrator acted like a mini alarm clock.
More than a couple times I laid there, pretending to sleep. I was always amazed when she popped orgasm after orgasm. One night I counted twelve, in addition to the six with me. I was a little jealous at first. Then I figured I had to accept the fact. She needed to get off repeatedly sometimes. Those thoughts brought me back to our situation with the cowboys. I wondered if the four of us would be able to âplease a ladyâ.
My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden increase in activity all around me. Lucas was in charge. He ordered Clete to get more wood from outside. Jenny carried over a pot of beans. She moved the coffee pot and got the beans heating on the other side of the stove top. I was enlisted to move the bunkbeds with Marty.
The weather report Lucas had referred to earlier warned of dropping temperatures after sunset. All we had was the stove, almost centered in the room, between us and the freezing cold outside. Night was approaching quickly. Marty and I got both of the homemade double bunks skidded over closer to the stove. It actually made a cozy little area. By hanging blankets down on the far sides of the bunks, two warm little berths were created. Marty lit two kerosene lanterns and hunk them from hooks in the rafters.
Over the next hour we all ate. In addition to the pot of beans we had some beef stew from a big can heated up on the stovetop. Combined with some store bought corn bread, it all tasted pretty good. Even Jenny, normally fussy about what she ate, chowed down with the rest of us.
The temperature outside dropped even more after dark. But the temperature inside that shack just kept heating up. Jenny was the center of attention. All three cowboys took every opportunity to touch her arm or brush her shoulder when they squeezed past her. Marty made sure her coffee cup was always full, a generous portion of the rye whiskey added with each refill. She didnât object.