I tossed the sticky thong to her and she held it between her legs as she gingerly walked downstairs. "Don't be too long; I'm not done with you lady," I called. After the last twenty minutes, I wasn't so sure about her status as a lady anymore, and I was damned sure that she wasn't going to consider me a gentleman by the time she left.
When I heard the water running downstairs, I got up and headed downstairs to make some drinks. In the kitchen, I clinked a few pieces of ice into two rocks glasses and poured two fingers of Jim Beam into each glass. I considered for a second, and downed one of them and then refilled the glass. When I heard the water stop, I was back on the bed, watching for her to exit the bathroom. The door opened downstairs and I could see the tiny thong hanging over the towel bar where it could dry. She stepped out of the small room, still wearing her heels and looking freshly scrubbed. Looking up at me, I could tell that she was trying to figure out a non-destructive way to get back at me.
She spied the saddle on its cradle and gracefully moved towards it. She turned her face back to me and with a mischievous look, threw a leg over it and stood just above the seat. I tried to play it cool, but inwardly worried that something might drip out of her onto the leather. I hoped that she had cleaned herself well, but was not about to act concerned. I picked up the remote and changed the input on my stereo. I found a rock song with a bumping beat and turned up the volume so that it filled the room, upstairs and down.
"Dance, baby," I quietly ordered, although there was no chance she could hear it over the music. She may have read my lips or not, but she started swaying back and forth. She purposely avoided my watchful eyes, but she shimmied and rocked to the beat, running her hands up and down her sides, swinging her hair around her head, and working her ass like a practiced stripper. The tease made me think of another girl but only for a minute.
The last time I'd been with a girl who was so brazen about sex had been four years before, back home in Pittsburgh. Sarah had been two years older than me, would strip, suck, or fuck at the drop of a hat and even make out with her girlfriends on dares. Every time that happened it came as a shock to the recipient, but since she was so hot, few of them resisted her. One of the nutty things I remembered doing with her was while we were sitting in the cheap seats at Three Rivers Stadium watching the Steelers beat the Browns one freezing-ass winter day. We were sharing a blanket and she attempted to jack me off under the cover with a crowd around us. I say "attempted" because I couldn't finish knowing that so many people around us probably knew what the smoking hot redhead was doing under there and it was so damned cold that all I wanted was for her to put my dick back in my pants and let me warm up.
But by far the wildest thing she'd ever done was when she'd climbed up on a pool table and gave a roomful of men and women a show one night. She danced like an experienced pole dancer and lots of eyes in that bar gave away their desire to be with her, men and women. When she was down to only her heels and g-string, a bouncer moved forward out of the crowd and stopped her from going any further. People booed, but he'd done it on a look from the owner who was afraid that he'd get shut down if any cops walked in and saw the show going on. Sarah never paid for a drink in the town of Zelienople again and she constantly got asked where the plaid mini-skirt was that she'd removed that night.
But here I was now watching this beautiful blond putting on the show. Her C-cup tits swayed on her tan chest and the definition of her legs while she danced in her heels made me forget about the girls back home. Having my own private striptease was certainly entertaining and I was ready to get at her body again, but decided to watch, sip my bourbon, and see where this would go. While I watched, it suddenly occurred to me that she had no tan lines. The usual white ass and tits of girls who wear bikinis at the beach were nonexistent. I made a mental note to see if I could learn where she did her nude sunbathing and wondered if Angie did too. Since both times that I had been with her sister had been in relatively low light conditions, I had not noticed much about her tan.
Olga's dancing became more erotic and she mimicked a cowboy riding a bronco. "Ironic," I thought, "since I just recently felt the same way while banging her from behind." She grabbed the horn, a no-no when riding, and moved forward as she danced and waved her other hand above her head in a circle. Her thighs brushed against the swells and she pretended to grind against the rough leather of the high, protruding horn. This made me glad that I didn't have my McClellan saddle on display since that type of saddle has no phallic device sticking up to entice impromptu grinding by would-be strippers.
I drained the last of my whiskey and stood up to show my appreciation. My erection was back at full staff and while I was standing, she could see it. "No sense in wasting it by remaining seated," I thought. Still trying to tease and pretending not to see me, she increased the intensity of her bump and grind routine. When her sex made contact with the hard leather of the horn and she bent both knees to better control her use against her clit, I put down my glass, picked up hers, and started down the stairs. With one swallow, I drained hers as well and caught the ice cube in my mouth. As I approached her, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the rubbing against her soft nub.
I bent forward and sucked a nipple into my mouth, allowing the ice cube to contact it. Her eyes flew open and her mouth went slack. Taking this to be a good sign, I grabbed her other breast in my hand. I clamped my thumb and forefinger to pinch the nipple and pulled, not enough to hurt her, but enough to get her attention. The forceful act of clamping down on it while the other was being sucked hard by my ice cold lips made her gasp. She pushed harder toward the protrusion against her upper vagina and stroked herself up and down on it. I worried that, left to her own devices, she may try to mount it and take it into her cunt. "That wouldn't be good for the leather or her insides," I mused as I came up with a new plan.
I swung myself into the saddle behind her, rubbing my erection up and down the crack of her ass. She tensed initially, probably afraid I was going to go for her ass, but leaned forward to allow me access to her pussy. As she ceased swaying, I decided that she'd stopped to allow me to penetrate her and started to work my cock up and down her wet-again sex until I'd lubed the head enough to attempt an entry. With her clit trapped against the horn of my western saddle and me behind her, she bent forward to allow me to take her from behind again. This time it was a slow, leisurely pace that I set since I figured she might have been sore from the first fucking she'd received.
We rocked back and forth slowly, careful not to hurt her sensitive nub on the rough leather strips wrapped around the saddle horn. Luckily, the tree of the saddle was a large one that would nearly accommodate two riders with a high cantle that I could rest my ass on as I pushed gently in and out of her. When I'd bought it, I never expected that it would be used in this way. She had to stand to support her own weight as she straddled the stirrups and the rigging and I amused myself thinking about the flowered pattern of the fenders and the interesting marks that it would make on the insides of those long legs.
As she wrapped her hands around the gullet of the saddle, I worked to fondle her breasts, lower back, and her ass. I wanted to grab a handful of each cheek again and separate them so that I could watch our coupling, but being mindful of her admonition to stay away from her nether hole, I contented myself with mimicking the swaying gait of a walking horse while we fucked. Besides, there was no room between us to get a good hold on her butt. So I watched her rock back and forth as I slowly stroked in and out of her.
I must have been poking at her G-spot just right, because her breathing became ragged again and I knew we had begun the short uphill climb to her plunge over an orgasmic cliff. I gradually picked up the pace, watching and listening for the signs that she was getting closer or wanted more. Her head tilted back and she moaned aloud at the ceiling so I slid a hand around her middle to caress her stomach and help to hold us together. If she came unglued carelessly, one or both of us might get hurt. Her already sensitive clit was too close to the horn to allow any rough and repeated contact and I didn't want a concho up my ass if I got pushed backwards suddenly.
When the opportunity afforded itself, I slipped a hand in between her lower tummy and the horn so I could take the brunt of what was to come and protect her sensitive area. I picked up the tempo again, changing our speed to the rocking motion of a horse at a trot. The slapping sounds of my cock banging against her ass cheeks was nearly as loud as the music and the smell of her excitement mixed with the odors of old leather and horse sweat.
"I'm com-, I'm com-, I'm comingggggg," she seethed and she pushed back hard while bending forward more to try to take in more of me. "Ohhhhhh, there, right there, oh-my-God-that's-it-holy-shit-that's-it-don't-stop-don't-stop! Ahhhhhhh, unnnnnnhhhh," she trailed off. Her body tensed so hard that I could actually hear the popping in her back as her muscles and bones fought the exertion. She kept right on whispering a nonsensical stream of obscenities through her orgasm.
