Pressed tight against him, that’s where she was. And if he didn’t take care she was apt to suck the breath clean out of his lungs.
Fancy didn’t seem to know a whole hell of a lot about the fine arts and sciences of the kiss. But she was for sure willing to do what little she knew how with gusto. Mucho gusto.
Chapter 42
Ah yes, the delicate and lovely nuances of genteel courtship. Fancy’s version of courtship was on the same order of things as illustrating the proper techniques of the social call with Sherman’s visit to Atlanta. Flames and all. Damn, but the girl was hot.
He meant that literally, actually. The day was another scorcher and Fancy was sticky with sweat. Smelled of yesterday’s sweat, too. And maybe a somewhat more extensive collection as well although he’d rather not have to think about that at the moment.
There were, ahem, other matters to consider just now.
Like how to get those damned buttons … there, that was better.
He got the top of her dress open while Fancy was busy with his fly. It’d seemed something of a race that turned out to be a tie. Not that there was any harm in that.
She was wearing a thin chemise under the dress. That posed no problem for a man of Longarm’s experience. Especially as the material of the chemise was old and often washed. The pale cloth kind of disintegrated under his touch—he swore he hadn’t jerked or pulled or tried to tear it open—and her tits popped out into full, glorious view.
More than a mouthful? These melons were more than a half gallon. Each. An incautious man might could smother himself to death if Fancy leaned down over him. Which might not be the very worst possible way a man could happen to die. But still…
She had a little heat rash underneath the sag of those bazooms and would have benefited from some powder. But he wasn’t complaining. He bent down and gobbled in a mouthful of nipple on her left one while he gave the other a hearty squeeze, and Fancy went to moaning like she was already in ecstasy.
“Oh God, honey, do me, do me quick, sweetie.” She snatched the hem of her dress waist high, the wonders thus revealed being instantly and fully on display as she hadn’t bothered with pantaloons when she dressed earlier. A shy girl, Fancy. Demure and withdrawn. Yeah.
“Do me, honey.”
She waggled her butt, which set her tits to flopping, and Longarm bore down all the harder to keep control of the one he was trying to suck. He didn’t know but what he maybe should set his spurs and hang on or else back away fast so as not to get slapped silly by all the meat that was being slung. He settled for taking a firm hold with his teeth and squeezing even harder on the other one.
Fancy groaned and wriggled and subtly indicated that, uh huh, she liked that just fine. “Harder, baby, harder,” she moaned. “Bite it, honey. Hard.”
He complied, hoping he wasn’t commencing to draw blood, and Fancy let out a loose, satisfied little squeal and kind of shivered some. He would almost have sworn that she reached a climax just then.
He moved over to the other tit and bit it too, and Fancy went so far out of it that her knees buckled and for about half a second there he thought he was gonna have to support her full weight on the nipple he was gnawing. Fortunately she got her balance back after that brief scare and continued to grope and grasp him.
She’d been having trouble getting his cock out where she could enjoy it but now she ripped the thing out of its confines—damned lucky for him he wasn’t fully hard yet so there was still some bend and give to the poor thing; otherwise he’d have had to set the break and put it in a splint and then where the hell would he have been—and got a good look at it for the first time.
The girl cackled and turned loose of him long enough to clap her hands in glee. “Sweetheart, I think I’m in love.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he told her.
“Take whatever you want, honey, just so I can take that big beautiful thing inside me.”
Uh huh. Shy. He hoped she’d outgrow that trait someday.
Fancy grabbed him by the nuts—she only wanted to fondle him, but she was such a vigorous broad that he was gun-shy and would have leaped away from her except she was too quick for him. If he’d pulled back once she had hold of him, he likely would have left his cojones behind, and she dragged him with her as she backed up in search of something to lean against.
She backed into a dirt crusted and rotting barrel and leaned against it, spreading her ample thighs and drawing Longarm right onto—and into—the wet heat of her sweating body.
Ready? She couldn’t have been any more slick and greasy if she’d been bathing in a tub of snot. He slid inside easy as dunking a biscuit in gravy and mightn’t have been sure he was in her if it hadn’t been for the heat that surrounded him.
Ready? He hadn’t more than bumped his belly tight to hers than Fancy went to shuddering and buffing and turning all red in the face. She wiggled and moaned and the lips of her pussy contracted so hard that he could actually feel her around him. The girl was just plain big. Loose and sloppy and big enough so that even he, big as he was, had room left over.
Longarm knew that while Fancy might be having a helluva lot of fun this way he wasn’t likely to get much out of it. Not like this. He pulled out and turned her around, giving her a little push so that she leaned facedown over the top of the ancient barrel.
“You want me in the ass, sweetie? You go right ahead, honey. I like it there too.”
Interesting, he supposed, and a generous offer. But not exactly what he had in mind.
“Pull your legs together.”
“Make me,” she demanded.
He didn’t understand what she wanted at first. Then did. What the hell, it was her quirk not his. He slapped her butt a couple times, harder than he really wanted if not so hard as she would have liked, and Fancy climaxed again under this tender treatment. “Now put your legs close together,” he repeated.
This time Fancy did what she was told—hell, if she got balky he might refuse to spank her again—and Longarm stepped up behind her broad ass.
This time when he slid the meat into her locker she was tight enough that he could enjoy being there.
And truth to tell there was something about Fancy that had him just damn near as hot as she’d been.
He stirred it around a few times and soon felt the swift rise of intense pressure building deep in his balls and flowing up into his cock.
He held back, trying to contain it, but it was like trying to hold back the spring floods. Just couldn’t be done.
When he came it was a flood sure enough. He pumped fluid enough to make a fire engine proud, and while he was doing that Fancy came again, too.
Longarm’s knees went weak and his eyes crossed—well, they almost felt like they might have—and he had sudden visions of soft beds that didn’t rock and jolt along a bunch of damned railroad tracks and long hours of uninterrupted sleep and things like that.
But then he was a United States deputy marshal here trying to do his duty.
Right.
He swayed backward, letting his limp, wet pecker flop out into the cooling air.
“Lawd’a’mercy, sweetheart,” Fancy said. Or something like that.
“Yeah,” Longarm agreed. He yawned and patted Fancy on the butt, which did not get a rise out of her this time. He supposed she must’ve been pretty well spent by now too, though.
“Excuse me, honey,” he told her, “but I gotta go see a man about a horse.”
Fancy made a face at him but didn’t object when Longarm went to tucking and buttoning himself into outward respectability again.
“Any time you want to talk some more,” she offered.
Longarm smiled and winked at her and leaned forward to plant a chaste, brotherly little kiss on the tip of her nose.
Then he turned and got the hell out of the close confinement of the old carriage house. Damn girl smelled like a goat, he swore she did.