The Outlaw's Lady
Kiko, the man I had devoted my life to loving, was my obsession. He was an outlaw, a gunslinger, and when he came to me, I never knew if I would see him again. Alive.
***
My old dog Prissy led me to the ranch house, and as I passed the barn, I waved my hat to the vaqueros who clustered there, branding cattle. I was tired and hot, and covered in dirt.
Prissy stiffened as we rounded the house, then broke into joyful yelping and ran ahead like a Texas tornado.
Ricardo "Ricko" Romero, reins in hand,atop a tall brown saddle horse, emerged from a dust cloud. He dismounted and Prissy lept at his thighs in adulation. He knelt and put his arms around her and pulled down his bandana so she could lick his face. I let her have a minute before I too ran to him.
"Kiko!" I squealed. Kiko was my pet name for him. He made little salty corn snacks for me and said that in Mexico they were called "kikos" and were sold by the street vendors. I ate them all up. Like I wanted to eat him up. To devour him. To pull him inside me. My pussy was wet just thinking of it.
He met me with arms outstretched and then held me tight. He smelled like horse sweat, his breath redolent with garlic and tobacco, but I inhaled him.
I hadn't seen him in five months, and I had been terrified that I might never see him. Gunslingers like Ricko couldn't promise their women that they would return. My hands ran down his pants, searched inside his shirt, explored his face.
He nestled his face into my hair, his hands working their way across my back and rear as he pressed into me. "Let me get washed up," he said.
I put my fingers to my mouth and whistled, and in a moment, a ranch hand stuck his head around the corner. "Please make sure Mr. Ricko's horse is cared for," I told him.
We walked to the kitchen at the side of my house, our fingers intertwined, our bodies touching. I poured a kettle of water and hung it from the fireplace hook. "You know where the soap and washcloths are, I'm going to fix you something to eat," I said. "The creek is cool, but not bad. I just took a bath there this morning, if you want to walk down there.
"I need to sleep too, my love. I've been riding for days. I wanted to get here ahead of the cattle drive so I can help if you need me."
"I always need you," I said, nearly growling it out. "But not just for the drive."
He pulled back and smiled, his mustache twitching a little.
I thought of that mustache, the way it had tickled me the last time he was here, tickling my sensitive and swollen clit. I smiled back. My finger touched his lips, then my lips found his, my tongue exploring his mouth.
He pulled away, grinned, and started for the creek.
Just as I put out a plate for him, he returned, stripped off his clothes, and wrapped himself in an Indian blanket. After he ate a slice of fresh-made sourdough bread with some beans and bacon, I laid him down on my straw bed, its soft feather comforter around him, and I snuggled up to his bare body, my hands running over his skin, its furrows and scars, each beloved to me. I searched for new ones and was relieved to find none. I took his big cock in my mouth for a moment and ran my mouth up and down the shaft. He grabbed my hair, calling my name. I pushed him back down and used my fingers to cradle his balls as I licked and sucked that cock. Within minutes, I felt his hot cum flood my throat. I licked him clean.
I woke him at dusk with clean clothes and a dinner of fried fruit pies and a stewed rabbit. I laid one of my precious flowers next to his plate.
Prissy had slept at his feet and she tumbled out to run into the dusk of the yard and chase rabbits and mice.
"I have to go to work," I said as he ate, his dark eyes seldom leaving my face.
"I know." He ran a finger down the side of my face. "Wouldn't do if the town's favorite madam isn't there to meet the customers."
"It's true," I said, grinning.
Three saloons in town, and mine is the one every ranch hand and cowboy from Texas to Mexico comes to. My girls are clean and smart and the food's not bad either.
"We've got the best piano player in the West."
We both laughed. Johnny High Pockets, as he was known, had been a classical pianist back East, but the lure of the Wild West brought him to Texas. He could really play, and my girls made good money dancing to his raucous tunes. There was nothing like it in town. Sometimes I swear the cowboys came for the dancing, not the drinks.
"I'll be back as soon as possible. I'd skip a night if I could, but it might raise eyebrows and we don't need word getting out that you're back until we're ready for company."
My Kiko's services were in high demand. Once the town realized he was here, we'd have a parade of people wanting to hire him to enact vengeance on an enemy or giving him tips about banks and trains and rich merchants, all for a cut of the profit and no risk on their part, of course.
"Button me up?" I asked him. I gasped as he tightened my corset until I could barely breathe and buttoned me in. I slid into my blouse and tight skirt while he stroked me.
"I want you bound for me," he said. "I want your body tight in that corset so all you can think of is me unbuttoning you later." Then he lifted my skirts, pulled the slit in my bloomers apart, and knelt before me.
I put my hands on his head and guided him to my clit. He wrapped his arms around my bottom and began to lick and tickle me. I could barely breathe in my tight corset, but I managed to gasp and squeal and squirm under his tongue. I threw my head back and moaned as I pulled his hair and gushed on his face.
