Captive Cowboy -- Part 1
In the Wild West a fierce outlaw and occasional do-gooder named Cade McDell wanders the desolate landscape. His latest exploits take him near the hacienda of a young senorita whom he saved weeks ago from the attentions of a brutal Mexican magistrate. Now, tired from his travels and returning the way he came, Cade finds that Adelita is not alone. And what he discovers is that Adelita and her sister Juliana have more than just simple hospitality in mind...
***
"You thought you would come and have Adelita keep her promise, eh Senor?" Adelita smiled seductively. Her face was still bruised, but much of the swelling had gone down. It was now possible to see just how pretty she was. Dressed just in a silky chemise that took a pink hue from the tinted lamp, her more-than-ample figure was clearly outlined by the clinging cloth. Firm breasts, their erect nipples prominent against the soft silk, their aureoles like shadows on the silk, made him more than a little horny, even after the long ride.
He turned around to discover Juliana dressed in the same sort of filmy cloth. Her figure was less full, but no less appealing. Younger than Adelita, and leaner, she possessed an athletic grace as she crossed the room, her long legs pulling the cloth tight against her thighs and derriere as she walked to a table and set down the pistol.
"Maybe we should put out the light," Adelita suggested.
"That's a good idea," Cade agreed.
Adelita lifted the chimney of the lamp, bent over, and paused long enough to give him a good look down the front of her nightgown. He noticed, and she smiled, then pursed her lips to blow him a kiss before extinguishing the flickering flame.
One of the women, he wasn't sure which, went to the door and locked it. He smelled her perfume as she glided by him in the darkness, and he tried to guess which of them she was.
In a husky voice, the woman said, "We have much to tell you, Senior McDell. But first we have more important things to do."
On her way back, she stopped at his side, took him by the arm, and tugged him toward the back of the room where, he knew, the beds were. Hands worked at his gunbelt, and he quickly realized there were more than two. The gunbelt came away, then busy fingers started on the butons of his shirt and his fly. Peeling off his shirt, the hands fluttered over his chest and back, their touch delicate as the wings of butterflies.
Lips caressed his cheek, then dropped lower, tickled his chest, found a nipple, and sucked it gently until teeth nipped it once, then again. His jeans were tugged down around his ankles, then a firm push toppled him backward onto the bed. Immediately he felt his boots grasped firmly and jerked free. Then his jeans were removed and tossed aside. He heard them land against the opposite wall with a series of dull thuds.
"Ladies, ladies," Cade said. "Wait, I have some important things to do..."
But they ignored him, one of the women stopping his protest with a wet kiss. In the darkness he couldn't see who was who. He only knew that he was hungry for a woman, and since they seemed to be just as hungry as he, his question would have to wait. He opened his mouth, letting the woman slide her tongue in, and returned the favor. Whoever it was sucked greedily on his tongue, and he felt hands stroking him, his chest, his thighs, his arms -- they seemed to be everywhere at once.
He was already hard, but when a hand closed over his cock he grew harder still. As the fingers began to stroke him, another hand cupped his balls, squeezing gently. The woman atop him shifted her position, straddling him now, her hands braced on the bed on either side of his head. Poised over him, her legs wide, she lowered herself slowly while the disembodied hands held him rigid, guiding him toward the center of her. The head of his rigid erection was gently positioned, and he felt the tickle of a damp bush, then the fleshy wetness of thick lips as her heat enveloped him with a single downward thrust of her hips.
He groaned, and she leaned back, tossing her hair back until it brushed his thighs. Then she rose up slowly, until he thought he would be set loose again, but at the very height she stopped, then slowly lowered herself again, the slickness making a sucking sound as he was buried in her once more. She ground her hips, turning from side to side, rising slowly, then descending more slowly still. Her head was still thrown back, and he rested his hands on her hips for a long moment, trying to guess -- Juliana, Adelita, he didn't know. And at the moment it didn't really matter.
His hands slid along her rib cage and as she rose again, her breasts eluded his greedy hands until she reversed her motion, lowering herself down to his hips again, her breasts moving into his waiting hands. They were full, the soft heaviness of them, the hardness of the nipples no clue to her identity. He knew only that she was moving faster now. Her skin was glazed with sweat, and her perfume mingled with the sharp tang of musk as she worked him harder and harder.
She was moaning now, her voice husky, an animal sound coming from deep in her throat that disguised it. He squeezed the full breasts gently, his thumbs working against the stiff resistance of her nipples. Rising and falling, now rapid, now impossibly slow, she teased him again and again to the edge of that explosion which he knew could not be denied but which seemed to be suspended now somewhere just beyond reach.
He traced the curve of her throat with his trembling fingers, felt the hollows beneath her chin, the rigid bows of her collarbones, then grabbed her by the hips and held on as she started to move faster still. He was rising to meet her now, eager for release, but she withheld it, taking control and keeping it. He felt the ripple of her muscles against him as she withdrew, felt their hungry clutch as she returned.
Then a breast, not hers, appeared before him, and he opened his mouth to take it in. Full, full as the others, and still he had no ideas whose as he sucked like a hungry child, tasting the saltiness of sweat, his tongue fluttering against the pebbled aureole. The breast was taken away, and he felt almost angry until its twin took its place, and again he tried to satisfy the nameless hunger in his gut.
It grew darker and he found his head clamped between damp thighs as the other woman straddled him, lowering herself, and his tongue found the damp jungle between her thighs, tasted drop after drop suspended there in the trembling tangle. He probed deeper, his lips brushing darker, thicker lips, his tongue sliding between them, tracing them, tasting their musky flesh, then sliding in still deeper, fluttering, looking for the hard center of her, finding it, and teasing her now, clamping gently with his teeth as she swiveled her hips and moaned in her own husky voice.
He stroked her back, brought his hands down to enfold the firmness of her ass, to feel the steady throb of her muscular thighs as she worked with him, following his tongue wherever it led her. Reaching around her broad back, he found her breasts, cupping them, tried to remember whether the first were larger -- Adelita or Juliana, who was who?
He was moaning now as the women cried out, and their mingled scents swirled in a hurricane around him. The bed creaked beneath them, threatening to collapse under the weight of their passion, the violence of their motion, but he did not want to stop, could not even if he wanted. He was taunted by twin sirens, pushing higher and higher, until he thought he could see himself as if from a mountain, miles below, spread out beneath them, the tangle of limbs and trembling flesh one indistinguishable being as he merged with them so totally he thought he would lose himself forever in the fevered flesh they had all become, melting, surrendering their identities in pursuit of only one thing.
And then, the moment he thought would never come came rushing at him like a hawk dropping from the sky. He trembled, once, twice, then, urged on by the clamp of sweaty thighs at waist and mouth, he let go completely, feeling himself quiver and shake, and he thought that this moment too would never end. The woman impaled at his waist trembled and her throaty moan became a shriek, her body shaking as she joined him, and the woman above his greedy tongue gave her hips one last quivering thrust, grinding herself against him and raking her nails across his belly as she dug her hands into him and began to growl like a catamount, her fists beating against him then, the painless violence of her surrender hammering and hammering until she was drained and she collapsed on the bed beside him, her identity still a mystery.
He lay there, surrounded by the musk and the sweating flesh, drenched in their juices and his own, his eyes closed, his strength sapped. He felt them leave him then, one at a time, the bed groaning once more as they got up. There was a whispered conversation deep in the shadows, but he was too exhausted to pay any attention to it. Even the giggling failed to tantalize him. He draped a trembling forearm across his face and tried to sleep.
They were back now, whispering to each other, one crawling onto the bed, the other kneeling beside it. He started to get up, but strong hands pressed him back against the mattress. A moment later, he felt the soothing caress of a damp cloth wiping away the sweat and cooling his fevered skin. Then another, as they washed him from head to foot, playful fingers teasing his wilted member back to attention as the cloth dabbed at his thighs and mopped the sticky residue from his stomach and hips.
His face too came in for their attention, the musk wiped away from his lips and chin, the sweat from his neck and chest. He felt so sleepy, so helpless, and half wondered if this was what it was like to be a baby about to be wrapped in swaddling clothes, or a corpse in its shroud.
At the moment, he didn't care which. He knew only that he belonged somewhere else, his tired brain and lifeless body longing to drift away. Once more, he closed his eyes and started to float off.
But as he was drifting off once more, he felt the bed sag again, and the women crawled in beside him, one on either side, their breasts pressed against his rib cage, their arms around his neck, their lips against his ears.
"We have to switch places, Senor McDell," one whispered. And the other added, "Fair is fair, after all."
Cade groaned, half in surrender and half in hungry anticipation. "Not now, ladies," he said. "Please, not yet."
"All right," one whispered. "But soon, before the sun comes up and it is too hot in here."
"It's already too hot in here," he whispered.
