"There we go," the cowgirl grinned, crouching down to meet the Kid as he got out from under the truck and to his hands and knees. "Jeez, you're a little feller, ain't ya? How old are ya? You end up getting split up from your folks when those arseholes started chasing ya, honey?" With the slavers dispersed, the cowgirl took on a much kinder and sweeter tone for the Kid's sake, clearly assuming that he was, well, a kid. That was irritating. He wanted to snap at her over it, even though she had saved him.
It was hard to make himself do it, probably because parts of him were getting hard now that he was up close to her. He couldn't get his eyes off her immense rack; the cowgirl's nipples were pushing against the flannel shirt like they might burst through, and those damp spots only got larger and larger. They really were the biggest breasts he had ever seen before, impossible to ignore and begging for
some
kind of attention. The sort of attention that was incredibly inappropriate to give someone who had just saved your life. The sort of attention she certainly wouldn't let him give her as a kid. The sort of attention, honestly, that he shouldn't have been thinking about at all. Maybe the heat and exhaustion was getting to him.
"Kid? You shell shocked? You ain't got nothing to worry about now. Savvy Sharpes got you. C'mere," she said with a southern twang, reaching down to scoop her arms under the Kid's and pluck him off the ground. She was stronger than she looked, and she didn't look weak at all. He all but squawked at how she treated him; before he had a chance to make a more vocal objection, he was finding himself pressed into the bosom he had just been admiring. Her damp nipples were stiffer than they looked, but her tits were perfectly pillowy. She hugged him close, nothing but motherly assurances on her mind. "You're gonna be fine," she cooed as she began to pet his hair.
That snapped him out of his mammary driven stupor, at least. "I'm nineteen," he muttered, making a token effort to push away from her. As nice as her chest pillows felt, he didn't really want to get her leaking milk all over his sweaty, dirty mess of a shirt. He had known several enslaved women like her in the Avila-Cruz cactus farm; their huge racks were constantly full of milk, swelling with their arousal and leaking milk easier than one of the few docile cacti leaked water. They were prized human livestock for their rare but incredibly valuable mutation. Milk had so many uses. Not only did it quench thirst, it could be used to make incredibly valuable cheese, something few people in the desolate wastelands ever got to taste.
He had only tasted cheese once before. It was divine.
The Kid's father used to tell him stories that his father used to tell him, stories of animals called goats and cows that common people like themselves used to keep. Animals they could milk that they could turn into cheese, if they cared to, and use as they please in ridiculously decadent ways. He once went into their farmhouse's attic and came down with a 'fondue set' that people supposedly used to
melt cheese in
so they could dip bread in it. Outrageous, ridiculous things.
"Sure you are, honey," 'Savvy Sharpes' cooed as she squeezed him all the tighter to her chest, unaware of her milky tits or his wandering thoughts. "You're gonna be one day, and on that day you ain't gonna have to lie to keep yourself safe, don't you worry." She ruffled his hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp in a way that made him stop the ineffective shoving. "Now, you got any idea where your folks are? It's dangerous out here for a kid, and I reckon I oughta make sure those fuckers ain't just look for another poor fucker to go after." She slid her hand out of his hair and right down his back, then slipped it around his front only to dive down between
her
legs. "Yeah," she murmured a bit more throatily, and it took the Kid several shocked moments to realize what the cowgirl was doing with her fingers, wetly schlicking away at herself with her fingers down her jeans.
This woman was completely and utterly fucked up. He renewed his shove to get out of her now one-armed hug, grunting. "No, I'm being honest." It wasn't just concern for his shirt anymore. For her to get off on violence like that and to be so openly masturbating right after it, she must have been a psychopath. A hot, freckled, fit as fuck psychopath but a psychopath nonetheless. "I'm nineteen. I'm just-- small. Thank you for rescuing me but-- let go." There was no telling what would happen around here, and the only safe place for him to go now would be
away from her
. His father used to tell him that the only thing more dangerous than a psycho in the desert was a friendly psycho, because the lines of reality and fantasy were far too blurred for them to be reasoned with.
She squeezed him even tighter, chuckling under her breath. "Sure you are," she repeated merrily only to stop suddenly, her expression freezing over at something. "... You packin'?" she asked him just as abruptly, her wide green eyes narrowing in suspicion upon the Kid's face. "You little fucker, are you packin'? This some trap to capture the Lone Ranger? It is, ain't it. Be fuckin' honest now, or I'll break your legs and leave you to crawl back to your fuckers in Hiyooston," she threatened.
"Lady," the Kid growled back to her, feeling like a cornered animal. "If I had a gun, do you think I would have been in that situation to begin with? I just escaped from a--"
"Yeah, whatever," Savvy grunted, suddenly rising from her crouched position. She lifted the kid easily with one hand at the same time, her fingers sliding down to grab hold of his ass and secure his position while he squawked his agitation once more. "Ain't no point in asking, 'cause if you
are
a trap or bait or whatever the fuck it ain't like you're gonna tell me. Just gonna have to frisk your little ass." She carried him right up to the cab of the truck the slavers left behind, swinging the door open and plopping him right down on the stained llama leather seat.
