My Dream Cowgirl

...in that moment of slumber between dream and reality the most vivid thoughts occur, some are luscious, and other are frightening, but seldom do they fail to entertain. These notions swirled through my cotton stuffed brain, as I focused my eyes on the path that my moccasin clad feet were stumbling on.

Smells of wet forest and campfires met my nose, and my own smells of Lightfoots soap and Clubman cologne were replaced by pine and hickory smoke. I could feel my toes moving in the softest doeskin shoes, my feet melting silently over every root and rock on the path as I walked along. If this was a dream it was more vivid and real than much of my life had been before. I seemed comfortable in my surroundings and I noticed for the first time that my garb now consisted of my new found shoes and a matching loin cloth, also of the same butter soft doeskin.

Perhaps what I thought of as my real life was the dream and this was reality. I looked down over my body and was aware of its red brown color, not unlike autumnal trees. I felt leaner and also oddly hairless, but as I thought this, my hand instinctively tossed my long black hair aside. Before any of this could really sink in though I heard a change in the woods about me, a lack of sound from the squirrel and birds, and a faint odor of fire, not the camp fire that I was accustomed to.

Ahead where the path opened up I saw a wagon overturned and its canvas cover torn and smoldering, I stooped and proceeded silently to see what had happened. My eyes told me that men known to us as cowboys had been here and met one of the tribes that use this trail, and they had become captives of the Indians. Not all though. One of their women was there looking through the wreckage, she wore a cowboy hat and long flowing skirt, her skin was white as I had once thought of my own, and her hair the color of fire. But her eyes were most fascinating to me, they were the gray of a wolfs. I looked for a while and decided she needed my help so I moved from the cover towards her. She heard me behind her and screamed, lashing out at me with a whip. I hadn't intended to take her as prisoner but she left me no choice.

I quickly overpowered her and tied her hands behind her. In the struggle her body moved against mine and her scent was on me, I became aroused. She looked at my loincloth and stopped screaming, I led her away. I was going to bring her back to her people, but maybe not right away. As the sky grew dark I made camp in a clearing off the path, the fire chasing away the nights cold. I cooked a snared rabbit and fed my guest from my fingers, as her hands were still bound. She looked at me as I fed her, her lips touching my fingers, and our eyes meeting again and again. Without thinking I reached out and touched her long hair, feeling its silk strands slip through my fingers. I heard her gasp softly and let my hand slip over her face to the swell of her breast. Softly through the thin cotton her nipples responded to my touch.

My own desire was growing as I let my hands run further down. Her skirt was worn and thin and clung to her curves as I traced her body with my fingers, looking up I saw her eyes closed and heard a faint moan. I kissed her mouth softly and to my surprise her tongue slipped between my lips and met mine. This feeling was so intense I pressed my mouth firmer to hers, kissing her deeper, more passionately. My body pressed tightly against hers and I felt her hips moving, grinding against my hardness.

I leaned back and she kissed my chest, her lips lingering on my nipples and the welt where her whip connected. then with her hands still tied she knelt before me and rubbed her face on my loincloth, moving it aside and kissing my swollen shaft. I felt a shudder, and grabbed her hair, pulling her face closer, forcing myself deeper into her mouth.

When I thought I could take no more I pulled her to her feet and leaned her over a tree. Securing the rope to the tree, her body stretched out, leaving her bottom exposed. Her thin skirt tore as I pulled it away, her bottom soft and white in the light of the fire. I lifted my loincloth and placed my shaft against her wetness, and leaned forward. She moaned as the tip parted her pink folds.

Deeper, inch by inch I slowly entered, savoring the feeling pulsing through me. I felt my balls touch her smooth thighs as I bottomed out, my cock deep inside, so tight, so very wet. I pulled back so the tip was just out, and waited. I heard her whimper, and in a tongue strange to my ears I told her to come to me. Not knowing if she understood I waited, my hand patting her wetness. She moved against the bonds towards me, slipping over my hard shaft, and back again. I watched my cock slide in and out as this woman fucked herself on me.

I called her names in my language and slapped her bottom as her wetness ran over my balls and down my thighs. She collapsed on the tree whimpering softly, so I moved around to her face. She looked up at me as I stroked my shaft slowly, deliberately and began to cum. Spurting on her waiting tongue, and face. I fell to my knees and kissed her again, and fell asleep. I awoke to write this down, uncertain of what was real, but a red mark on my chest was there after my shower this morning.