Lassoing the Virgin Mail-Order Bride(7)
“You know, I’m starting to think I shouldn’t ask what you’re thinking about out here all alone with the sounds you’re making right now.”
I look over at Earl and grunt. I was probably moaning just like Clare moaned in my lap earlier. She got me harder than a goddamn fence post making those sounds with her round ass in my lap.
“She ought not to be out here with a bunch of men like this,” I say, not looking up at Earl as I finish my pie.
“You don’t trust these guys?”
“No,” I say quickly. I trust all these men with my life. They’re good guys, and I know they wouldn’t hurt her. I’m just thinking of excuses. “Why would a pretty little thing like that want to be a mail-order bride?”
“I think we’ve all got our own reasons for why we choose this life. And I’m sure she has hers.” Earl sets his clean plate down on the table next to us. “I know you told me to send her away. Do you still want me to?”
“No.” The short word has a little panic on the end of it, and I set down my empty plate, hating that I can’t hide my emotions.
“I didn’t think so.”
We rock a little in silence, watching as the men leave the big house and head out to their bunks. Once the last of the men are gone, and Levi and Brandon let us know the kitchen is spotless, Earl looks to me and speaks again.
“You may not want my advice, but since your daddy passed away, I’ve felt like it’s my job to look out for you. You were always like a son to me, too, Cash, so even if you don’t want to hear it, I’m going to say it.”
I look over at him as he stands up off the swing and makes his way to the edge of the porch.
“You got a choice to make. You can go through with this mail-order bride and make her yours, or you can send her on her away. Keeping her around and not putting a ring on her sure ain’t fair to all these other men who would give their left arm to take your place.”
With that, he walks off the porch and heads out towards his little cabin next to the bunks where the men sleep. I watch him go, not moving from my spot but letting his words sink in. I may have started this thinking it was a quick solution, and I may have changed my mind because it’s a crazy scheme. But in the end, I want Clare like I’ve never wanted anything before in my life, and I don’t think I can keep that at bay.
I stand up from the swing and go into the big house, closing the door behind me. I flip the lock, and it strikes me as odd at first because I can’t remember the last time I locked my front door. But with Clare here, I want us to have our privacy, and that means keep the boys out until we’re good and ready to feed them.
I go to the hallway bathroom first, taking off my button-up shirt and jeans and boots. I toss my dirty clothes in the hamper before I strip out of my underwear and turn on the hot water. I get in the shower and let it wash away the dirt and sweat from today. All my muscles relax as my hand runs down my chest hair and over the ridges of my stomach until my big palm reaches my cock. It’s hard and straining, nearly purple with need, and I touch myself, thinking that I can’t remember the last time I jerked off. I’m usually so tired by the time I get done with the day's work that I just take a shower and fall into bed before starting all over again at first light.
Not tonight. Right now I’ve got a burning need running up my balls and shaft that I have to take care of. Reaching out, I grab the soap and rub it in my hands, making some suds. I run both my hands up and down the long length of my cock, squeezing its thickness and trying to get relief. I let the hot water hit my back as I thrust into my hands, thinking about every little curve of Clare’s body. The way her big blue eyes looked up at me. The way her little blonde curls tickled around her neck, and the way she smelled like fresh apples behind her ear.
No way can her tiny little curves take my cock. There’s no way. Maybe if I’m gentle with her, I can slide the tip in. That’s all I’d be able to fit in her, and I’d die a happy man if that’s all I ever got of her. Just the sweet taste of her little * on the end of my cock would be all I ever needed. Just the warm wetness on the tip and I’d cum inside her every night. She wouldn’t need to take every inch. Just the head, and we could do that for the rest of our lives.
I run my hand over the bulging tip, thinking about how her tight * would squeeze it, and I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head. I’d love to spread her legs and see if she’s got blonde curls on her *, too. I don’t know why porn magazines always have women with bald ones. It does nothing for me. But thinking about Clare and her having a sweet little * with a patch of hair on it makes me want to bury my face in it and eat her.
Licking my lips, I moan as I picture her tiny legs wrapped around my head, holding me to her as tight as she can. She has some curves under that apron, so I know she’d be so soft. She’d be sweet and ripe for the picking. I wonder if she’s on anything or if she’s fertile. I bet even by getting the tip of my cock into her, I could get her pregnant. I could work on shooting my cum out hard and long so that it could get inside her, even if I can’t go all the way.
I start rubbing my cock in longer strokes thinking about it. How I need to cum inside her and make her mine. Each thrust into my hand is getting wilder and less controlled. I can’t hold on much longer.
Picturing her sweet face looking up at me as she licks her lips, I toss my head back and grunt out my release. I feel the force of my cum shoot out of me and onto the shower wall in front of where I’m standing. I open my eyes and smile at the white splatter on the stone. Should be a good enough length to get the job done.