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Authors: Emory Vargas
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watching. His cock filled, making it feel nice to squirm his hips down against the bed as he nosed on up to her pussy.
"I'm going to show you how to kiss her now," he said, holding her open with his fingers so he could bathe his tongue from her musky deep hole to the wrinkly little folds around her nub.
"It's licking, more like," Rose said breathlessly, her hips quivering. "Evelyn taught him, so don't let him go on like he discovered my frontier all on his own."
Jesse blew a raspberry right at her sensitive skin to get her back for tattling, and she laughed and pulled his hair until he set back to licking steadily, closing his eyes to get into the rhythm of it.
"You can get your prick out, Mr. Roscoe," Rose said, gasping the words out. "Don't seem fair for you to just watch."
Jesse stopped and stroked two fingers over the matted-down, wet hair and her swelling flesh to make sure Roscoe was doing as he was told. When a whore tells you to draw, you draw.
Roscoe nodded and unfastened his trousers, looking between them nervously. His cock sprang up, flushed-dark and thick. Jesse looked away in a hurry, knowing better than to go ogling his friend's manly parts. Still, he could hear the sounds Roscoe started to make, quick-sharp breathing sounds like he'd been running.
Rose stroked Jesse's hair, and he forgot to keep telling Roscoe what he knew, that some girls liked you to get a couple fingers up inside to make like fucking, and that some girls, like Rose, knew how to set the pace, and that some girls liked their little pricks sucked noisily.
"Harder now," she gasped, holding him still. "Harder now. Jesse. Harder now!"
He made his tongue flat and broad and licked her hard, ruthlessly chafing his tongue against her tender pearl until she shook and took great, whooping breaths like she was dying.
After that, she went lazy and warm, and stopped pulling his hair or moving at all, except for the steady, deep rise and fall of her chest.
"Don't just stop," Jesse said softly, though he wasn't sure Roscoe was paying him any more attention. He licked the junction of her thigh and the edge of her fuzzy bits, tasting her sweat.
Usually, this was when he'd climb up her body and take refuge in all her swollen, tender heat. But he wasn't there to fuck Rose and didn't feel inclined to either. When he rested his cheek against her sweaty thigh and listened to her sleepy, sated breathing and Roscoe's harsh, noisy breaths, he considered strong, wet lips around his cock and that's all he wanted to sheath himself in.
Considering the proximity of Rose's wet, eager pussy, and his own relative disinterest in it, Jesse decided, soundly, that Emmett Grady had ruined him.
CHAPTER SIX
SOMETHING AWFUL
It was a busy evening at the Weeping Willow, with the saloon full of cattlemen and a few unsavory types who weren't causing enough of a ruckus for Emmett to put a stop to just yet. He stood at the bar, half-eyeing a card game and half-eyeing the shadows below Jesse's thin collarbones.
As far as he knew, Jesse was supposed to be working, or flirting, or doing whatever it was he did to attract patrons. But Jesse just lurked beside him, stacking shot glasses idly and chattering about city gossip he'd read in the paper that came through by stage.
"You been a whore all your life?" Emmett asked abruptly, rapping his fingertips against his empty glass.
Jesse snorted out a breath and traced the rim of a shot glass. "Well, I was a child before that. But it didn't pay as well."
"And nothing in between?"
When Jesse paled, not answering him, Emmett followed his gaze and saw his father standing just inside the swaying door. Warren Grady seemed to fill the doorway, his silver hair and broad frame and stern jaw giving him the look of some mountain god come down to walk amongst his people.
The whole saloon quieted.
"What is my father doing here?" Emmett muttered under his breath. It was already clear by the raids on the farms and homesteads outside of town
"I'm going to show you how to kiss her now," he said, holding her open with his fingers so he could bathe his tongue from her musky deep hole to the wrinkly little folds around her nub.
"It's licking, more like," Rose said breathlessly, her hips quivering. "Evelyn taught him, so don't let him go on like he discovered my frontier all on his own."
Jesse blew a raspberry right at her sensitive skin to get her back for tattling, and she laughed and pulled his hair until he set back to licking steadily, closing his eyes to get into the rhythm of it.
"You can get your prick out, Mr. Roscoe," Rose said, gasping the words out. "Don't seem fair for you to just watch."
Jesse stopped and stroked two fingers over the matted-down, wet hair and her swelling flesh to make sure Roscoe was doing as he was told. When a whore tells you to draw, you draw.
Roscoe nodded and unfastened his trousers, looking between them nervously. His cock sprang up, flushed-dark and thick. Jesse looked away in a hurry, knowing better than to go ogling his friend's manly parts. Still, he could hear the sounds Roscoe started to make, quick-sharp breathing sounds like he'd been running.
Rose stroked Jesse's hair, and he forgot to keep telling Roscoe what he knew, that some girls liked you to get a couple fingers up inside to make like fucking, and that some girls, like Rose, knew how to set the pace, and that some girls liked their little pricks sucked noisily.
"Harder now," she gasped, holding him still. "Harder now. Jesse. Harder now!"
He made his tongue flat and broad and licked her hard, ruthlessly chafing his tongue against her tender pearl until she shook and took great, whooping breaths like she was dying.
After that, she went lazy and warm, and stopped pulling his hair or moving at all, except for the steady, deep rise and fall of her chest.
"Don't just stop," Jesse said softly, though he wasn't sure Roscoe was paying him any more attention. He licked the junction of her thigh and the edge of her fuzzy bits, tasting her sweat.
Usually, this was when he'd climb up her body and take refuge in all her swollen, tender heat. But he wasn't there to fuck Rose and didn't feel inclined to either. When he rested his cheek against her sweaty thigh and listened to her sleepy, sated breathing and Roscoe's harsh, noisy breaths, he considered strong, wet lips around his cock and that's all he wanted to sheath himself in.
Considering the proximity of Rose's wet, eager pussy, and his own relative disinterest in it, Jesse decided, soundly, that Emmett Grady had ruined him.
CHAPTER SIX
SOMETHING AWFUL
It was a busy evening at the Weeping Willow, with the saloon full of cattlemen and a few unsavory types who weren't causing enough of a ruckus for Emmett to put a stop to just yet. He stood at the bar, half-eyeing a card game and half-eyeing the shadows below Jesse's thin collarbones.
As far as he knew, Jesse was supposed to be working, or flirting, or doing whatever it was he did to attract patrons. But Jesse just lurked beside him, stacking shot glasses idly and chattering about city gossip he'd read in the paper that came through by stage.
"You been a whore all your life?" Emmett asked abruptly, rapping his fingertips against his empty glass.
Jesse snorted out a breath and traced the rim of a shot glass. "Well, I was a child before that. But it didn't pay as well."
"And nothing in between?"
When Jesse paled, not answering him, Emmett followed his gaze and saw his father standing just inside the swaying door. Warren Grady seemed to fill the doorway, his silver hair and broad frame and stern jaw giving him the look of some mountain god come down to walk amongst his people.
The whole saloon quieted.
"What is my father doing here?" Emmett muttered under his breath. It was already clear by the raids on the farms and homesteads outside of town
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