One Helluva Ride

I am awash in sensation, my nipples pebbled wantonly against the soft cotton of my sundress.  Lucchese leather dress boots decorate my legs…which are pressed together at the knee…forcing my muscles to contract…sending shivers through my dripping cunt.

Do they know? I wonder.  The spectators at this rodeo…  Do they know?  Do they know that I am sitting here amongst them in the grandstands, reveling in the quivers caused by my mini-vibe, snugged up inside my cunt?  Correction:  Snugged up inside YOUR cunt.  Do they know?  That I am willingly, enthusiastically undergoing erotic torture at this very moment?  For YOU?  That you are controlling my pleasure, remotely?  That even now, I struggle not to mimic the movements of the bronco in the arena, and buck?

I am ready.  Waiting.  Your very own unbroken colt.  YOURS.

I am on the edge of my seat, riding the edge of orgasm.  My excitement is palpable.  I want to cum.  I need to cum.  But I will do so for YOU, in YOUR time.  And it’s not time yet.  Not…  Time…

Time drips like the honey coating my thighs.  Eight seconds is an hour.  Where are you?

The two finalists in the women’s all-around are college students, but I cannot take in the sight of them.  The way they fit their saddles and grip their knees against the sides of their thoroughbreds conjures a vivid image of the last time I rode you, and I swallow against the keening cry rising up in my throat.

Focus, focus, focus…  I repeat the mantra; a silent plea for sanity while my body buzzes and my mind races.  Where are you?

The commotion of the cheering crowd is perfect camouflage for my frenzied fervor, and my body assimilates the additional stimulation.  My senses prick, and my sixth searches for you in the crowd while I keep my glossed gaze trained on the mustachioed male announcer. The full-bodied woman on the bench to my left brushes my arm, and I am viscerally aware of the empty space next to me, reserved for you.  Where are you? 

My cell phone vibrates in my lap, alerting me to a new message from you, and I feel my heartbeat accelerate.  You’re not here yet.  Are you coming?  Why are you texting me?  I open your message and exhale sharply when I read its contents:  I’M TURNING IT UP.  ARE YOU READY?

I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum…

Sweet.  Agony.

I breathe deeply to center myself and nod silently in answer to your question.  The intensity of sensations inside my cunt is instantly tripled and my fingers are saved from the impossible task of typing a response.  Your timing tells me you saw me nod, and as I scan the crowd once more, I see you wending your way through the multitude, coming toward me.

Finally.  Finally, you are coming for me…

You are coming for me, while I…

I.  Am.  Cumming.  For.  YOU.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This orgasm has been brought to you courtesy of Nate’s Thursday Erotica Prompts, which required that I do something sexy with a random combination of cowboy-isms.  (The prompt I chose required a man with a mustache, a cell phone on vibrate, and two college girls…at a rodeo.  Thus the blued words above.)  He only asked for one paragraph, but…

Let’s just say it took a little more than that this time.  But sometimes the extra effort is worth the pay-off, eh?  😉

Or maybe I’m just an over-achiever.

*snort*

(What?  You think this prompt business is EASY?  You try it!  Pffffft…)

Aaaaannnd…

For the record:  Yes, I do own Lucchese boots.  Two pair in fact.  I have been known to wear my boots with sundresses.  I have been known to attend rodeos, wearing a sundress…and my boots…and…absolutely nothing else.  I do not, however, have a remote-controlled vibrator.

Yet.

In case you were wondering.  😉