A Hand For The Little Lady

Author: Western

Marcus sat for a moment, enjoying the sound of birds in the trees, and the rustle of alder leaves in the gentle breeze. The bright colors of leaves and sunlight made the woods a park. With a slight smile on his face Marcus turned his piebald stud down a branch of the trail which appeared to go to the bottom of the valley, and hopefully to a river. He needed to fill his canteen and water Ruckus, the stubborn, hammer-headed horse he was sitting on… his best friend.

Marcus crossed a vast meadow, or possibly an old abandoned field. The west was full of such. It was not uncommon to come across a quaint little orchard so old that no trace of buildings still stood near it. Fields would last for 20 years of more before the trees regrew in them. Blackberries and roses were usually the first to claim a field such as this. Marcus’ suspicions were proved as he passed through a broken down rock fence. From there one the maples and beach woods made a park-like area where there was little grass or bushes. He could see the glint of water down below. The roar of the river blended with the wind rushing through the tops of the trees. A blue jay scolded him, flying in front and above him and scolding him with it’s terrible screams of outrage. A crow called from far away, as if inquiring what all the fuss was about.

Marcus kept his eyes open. Though it was nearly the start of a new century, the west in the year of 1899 was still a rough place. Dirty, low-down Indians had been replaced by dirty, low-down white men. The trains filled the west with thieves and scoundrels, where once honest men had tread. There used to be an old saying, that “God made man, but Samuel Colt made men equal.” They should have added that Samuel Colt made all men equal, and honest. But then the problem could be attributed to overcrowding. The ease of transportation had filled the west to the breaking point. In the past week he had seen three farms and a ranch.

Marcus stopped, just inside the trees, to survey the river before he stepped into sight. It always paid to be careful. He was about to urge Ruckus forward when he saw movement in a secluded bunch of cottonwoods. He squinted and moved to his left until he saw a blonde woman looking around spuriously, while mixing something in her lap. It took a moment to figure out what she was mixing. Herself.
“Holy shit,” Marcus gasped, his eyes bugging out. He was too far away to see much. He didn’t have a telescope or he would have had one hell of a show. As it was he figured he could move a little closer without being seen.

Desperate for a better view, Marcus turned his horse upstream, away from the woman below. He hurried Ruckus until he found a shallow ford, then forced the piebald across. It took only a moment to hurry back to the grove, on the opposite side of the river. He was about to quit in disappointment, believing he had missed her, when he saw the top of her head spring up as she looked around. In a moment she centered her attention to what she was doing in her lap.

Marcus tied off Ruckus to a dead branch. With stealthy steps he moved forward, using the sound of the wind and the river to cover his movements. In a moment he stood not 20 feet from her, but at her back. He could see nothing. Perturbed, he decided to reveal his presence and make the most of it.

“That’s a hell of a waste, ma’am,” he said gently. She gasped and sprang to her feet, spinning around to face him.
“Who are you?”
“Just a stranger passing through. I saw you sitting there and came to see if you needed help. Do you?” he asked slyly.
“Wh… what’s that mean,” she demanded guiltily.
“Well, I could do that for you, and a damned sight better, I recon.”
“Do what?” she threw her chin up.
“Churn that butter,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. She smiled for a moment, then stiffened her face.
“I was rubbing my stomach,” she said defiantly.
“Yes ma’am, I know you were. And I could help.”

“You asshole, I’m so horny I could die,” she stamped her foot. “In another minute I would have been done.”
“Let me help, a mouth is better than a finger anyhow.”
“You do cunninglus?” she gasped in wonder.
“It’s one of my favorite languages,” he smiled. “Can I come over there?” he asked wistfully.
“Yeah… yes,” she nodded, motioning for him to come closer.
“Can I bring my horse if he promises not to watch?” he asked with a little laugh.
“Yes, bring your damned horse. If you don’t pan out maybe I can make a deal with him.”
“Oh shit,” he gasped in surprise.

“I was just kidding,” she growled.
“Oh good, my horse has a weak heart. I don’t think he could take a proposition like that.”
“Would you shut the hell up and get over here, before I die?”
“I’m on my way,” he said, pulling Ruckus along behind him. The closer he got to the woman, the more he liked what he saw. It was pure luck that he had come across her at her most vulnerable moment. Otherwise a woman like her would have nothing to do with him.
“Say, you don’t have a pappy or a husband about, do you?” he asked, searching the nearby woods.

“My daddy’s in Cuba. He followed his mules into the Spanish war. He said if they get shot, he’ll die with them. He’s stubborn enough too.”
With Ruckus tied off to a tree, Marcus approached the beautiful woman. She was obviously in a state of anxiety. She swished her floured dress like a deer swishing it’s tail before flight. Her legs were widespread. The log was worn smooth with much use. By her?
“Well,” she demanded.
“I’m a might nervous, now that I’m close up. You’re a good looking filly.”

“Thanks. Now service me, you son-of-a-bitch,” she said, pulling up her dress. Marcus gasped at the gleam of satiny smooth legs and thighs which had never seen the sunshine. Only her pussy itself was still covered with the hem of the dress. He sank to his knees between her legs, looked at her hesitantly, then with a gasp he reached down and pulled up the hem of the dress. There it was in all it’s naked glory. The most beautiful pussy he had seen anywhere. The pelt of hair was light brown and small. Good, he didn’t like hairy women. Some had hair on their thighs and ass. She didn’t. Her pussy was slender and delicate. Her pelt of hair well groomed and dainty. He leaned forward and petted the hair up away from her pussy. Her lips glistened with moisture from her previous excitement. Her pussy was sweet and inviting. It was too bad that he had lied. He had never performed cunninglus in his life. But he had fantasized about it many times.

Marcus licked his lips and leaned down. He was as startled as she was at the first contact with her pussy. The skin on his lips was hot and soft. The moisture was not exactly tasty, but he could handle it. It was a lot like kissing a raw fish.

He pried her pussy open with his fingers and looked inside. He could see a mess of twisted skin, and a wet hole at the bottom. He stuck his tongue inside the hole experimentally. She moaned a little, but nothing more.

Marcus had watched a bull licking a cow many times, it was a common sight on the range. Did the bull know what he was doing? Marcus sure didn’t. He pressed his lips against her pussy and extended his tongue. With great care he dragged his tongue from the bottom of her pussy to the top. That got a reaction from her.

Marcus tried again, this time holding his mouth still and moving only his tongue. Yes, that was it. The woman was going crazy on his tongue now. She was leaning down over his head and holding his face in place. Her legs were wide open and shaking. She moaned the loudest when his tongue struck the knot of skin. He took this as an omen. He extended his tongue and worried the stiff bundle of skin. He felt something hard inside that felt suspiciously like a small cock. Experimentally, he batted at the small cock with his tongue. Yes, that was it. She was twisting and humping as he licked her there. In no time at all her squeals of excitement were echoing around the woods. He was glad that the sound of the river partially covered her screams. Still, they might be overheard.

Licking diligently, Marcus looked up at the woman’s chest. It had been a long while since he had seen a good set of breasts. In fact he could never remember seeing breasts, outside of pictures passed around over the campfire. Here was a living set of breasts bouncing around over his head, just waiting to be examined.