Frisky Barkeep Takes Sexy Cowboy For The Ride Of His Life

Phillip sauntered into the bar, all dirty jeans and cowboy boots. His flannel shirt was half untucked, his corn-silk hair looking like something that had been through a wind tunnel. His cheeks were sun-browned, and his easy lope was something that rarely failed to turn me on. But he liked simpering girls. Girls who would laugh at bad jokes, perch on his lap, flirt to get drinks and pop their gum in that annoying way that always had me one step away from homicide.

Philly wouldn’t give a girl like me a second look. A girl who’d just as soon tie him up with his own bandana as serve him his bourbon, neat. Or so I’d thought.

He gave me a nod, said my name in that honeyed tone and perched himself on a stool. “I see the joint is jumping today.”

Together, we took a moment to survey the utterly empty place, and I laughed, wiping the bar with a rag. “Yep.”

He smiled, lit a cigarette and leveled a tan, nicked finger at me. “I’ll have my usual and a turkey club. I’m starving.”

“Coming right up.”

I poured him a shot of whiskey, giving him an extra splash because he got my motor running. I pushed the glass across the bar, and then stuck my head into the adjoining room where a bored girl was waiting to make sandwiches for our imaginary customers. “Turkey club, extra mayo. He didn’t say so, but I know this man.”

She looked even more bored after I gave her the order, if that was possible. But she went ahead and began to assemble the sandwich. When she delivered it a few minutes later, she mumbled, “Taking a break. Back in thirty.”

I nodded. There was no use in arguing; we didn’t have anyone else to serve.

“So, you all alone with the walking dead?” he asked, nodding toward her retreating back.

“Yeah, she’s a real force of nature. But she’s a good kid.”

“What are you up to these days?”

“Not much. Days here, night classes for nursing.”

“So, eventually you’ll get to stick it to me? A needle, I mean?”

Something in my lower stomach shifted, turned warm, slid down further between my legs. I wiped the bar again, even though there was no need. “Guess so. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Men can be into all sorts of things,” he said. He bit into the sandwich and noted, “She does make a good turkey club.”

I wasn’t going to be toyed with. “Like what kinds of things?”

He shrugged his massive shoulders and cleaned his fingers on a napkin. “I’ve heard rumors … ”

I blinked. Rumors? About me?

“Such as?” I asked, keeping a calm exterior despite the fact that my heart was pounding.

“You like to be in charge. You like to run the show.” His blue eyes sparkled. He was making me antsy, and he knew it.

“And if I do?”

Another shrug. “Just saying that maybe a guy who’s used to driving the bus might like to ride in a passenger seat for a change.”

“So … a booty call?” I answered derisively. I wanted to be offended, but I was too turned on for that. I thought he was hot; he obviously knew that. I’d just never pursued him because of the parade of empty-headed pageant queens he’d brought through the bar.

“Maybe a meeting of the minds,” he said. “Without the mind part, of course.”

I made a snap decision. I didn’t ponder it too long, or I’d have talked myself out of it.

I reached beneath the bar and grabbed two clean towels. He had the sandwich to his mouth when I barked, “Put your vittles down. Back room. On your knees. No talking.”

Then I marched from behind the bar and into the back room without looking back. He’d follow or he wouldn’t. We’d know soon enough.

I felt his energy before I heard him. Cowboys can walk quietly in cowboy boots, believe it or not. He shut the door, and the snick of the lock engaging seemed deafening. “I put the ‘Back Soon’ sign in the window,” he muttered.

“Good. Now I said no talking. On your knees.”

I watched, mesmerized, as he dropped to his knees in one fluid motion. Judging by the size of the bulge nestled inside his jeans, he wasn’t averse to taking orders.

I unzipped my pants and pushed them down. I left the denim in a puddle on the floor and stepped up close to him. “Take my panties off.”

When he reached for me, I tsked and shook my head. “With your teeth.”

Gazing up at me, he tugged my undies down slowly. First, by pulling at the leg elastic and then, when he was able, snagging the waistband. I kicked off the panties, parted my thighs and winked. “Eat up.”

He groaned, but to his credit, he didn’t talk. He put that lush, pretty-boy mouth on my pussy and then began to draw his tongue along my folds. He nudged my clit and sucked, alternating until I was panting and clutching at his soft hair. How had I not bedded this man before?

He stroked his tongue over my nether lips and sucked my clit harder. He kept his hands at his sides until I said, “Put your fingers in me, Philly.”

He obeyed instantly, sliding two thick fingers into my cunt. I held his head, grinding my pussy against his face and seeking every bit of contact with his flicking tongue. He varied speeds, keeping me on edge and fucking me with his fingers until I lost my mind and came with a shudder.

“In the chair,” I said, my voice wavering only slightly.

He sat in an old, discarded ladder-back, and when I grabbed the bar rags, he put his hands behind himself before I could ask him. I bound his right arm to the chair and then the left. Then I unzipped his pants, tapped him so he lifted his hips, and pulled his boxers and jeans down as far as I could. His cock stood up, hard and eager.

“Happy to see me?”

He didn’t fall for it. Not a word came from that handsome mouth.

“I asked you a question.” I slapped his dick sharply but not too hard. Just hard enough to make his eyes go wide.

“Yes, I am. Happy to see you,” he ground out.

I rewarded him with a stroke, and his eyes drifted shut.

“Eyes open.” I tapped his cock again with the flat of my hand.

When he sighed, I lost my resolve. We were on borrowed time, and I wanted to fuck him. Badly.

I straddled him, guided him to my wet slit, and slowly sank down. I held his broad shoulders, driving myself down hard. Hard enough that we both gasped. I rotated my hips, mashing my clit to his pelvis. He let his head fall back.

“Eyes on me,” I whispered, grabbing a hunk of his hair and using it to make him meet my gaze.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said in that sexy drawl. A small half smile curled along his lips.

I damn near came right there, but I held off and growled, “Kiss me, Philly.”

He leaned toward me, unable to hold me because I had him bound. That knowledge alone made my nipples spike hard inside my bra. I wished we were naked. I wished we had time. But we’d have to make do with the time we had.

His tongue was soft and docile, and I deepened the kiss, nipping his tongue with my teeth. I continued to piston up and down, squeezing his cock with my internal muscles so hard that I feared losing myself too fast. A fine tremble had taken up in my body all the way down to my bones.

I felt him arch up under me, thrusting from beneath. Normally, I’d have reprimanded him. But I was in a rush and he was hot, and I liked his untamed nature.

I trailed my lips down his neck, licked his clavicle peeking out from inside his shirt. I squeezed him again, driving down as he thrust up, and bit him. He came with a muffled cry before whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry … . You didn’t say I could.”

I climaxed when I finally absorbed his words, and he delivered a final hard thrust upward. I was shaking, panting from exertion.

I sat back, his cock still buried in me. “It’s okay. We’ll work on that later.” I climbed off and found my pants, leaving him bound until I was dressed. “If you’re up for it, that is.”

He grinned. “I’m up for just about anything. I’m a cowboy.”

“Yes.” I laughed. “Yes, you are.” — Ms. Nancy M., Pierre, South Dakota

These Boots Were Made For More Than Walking As They Transform Jen From Girlfriend To Domme

I know that some girls love to wear pretty sandals to show off their fancy pedicures. They wait all year long for the arrival of flirty, frivolous footwear. Not me. Happiness to me is when sandals go back to the top of the closet and boots arrive in every store window. I live for boots, the ones to wear with jeans tucked in, the ones you can pair with leggings or stockings and a short skirt. If I could wear boots every day of the year, I would.

I didn’t realize, however, that other people felt the same way. Other people, like my boyfriend, Gary.

I don’t know why it had never occurred to me that Gary always complimented my outfits when I was wearing boots and that he seemed to have a photographic memory of the different boots I own. “I like those red ones even better than the black with the buckles,” he said recently. I paid attention to that, and on our next date, I wore red boots again — different ones with a higher heel. He commented on those right away. I didn’t quiz him then about his fetish. I waited, wearing a different pair the following Friday night. These were faux-lizard skin with spiked heels. I wore them over black stockings paired with a short skirt.

Gary seemed to have forgotten how to speak when I opened my door.

I smiled. I’d nailed him. He was as much a boot fetishist as I am.

“You look … ” he started, and he admired my entire body before his eyes lingered at my feet. “Amazing,” he finished.

“You mean my boots do,” I taunted him, and I put one foot behind me on the wall, striking a pose.

“Yes, yes, your boots look fabulous,” he agreed.

“Do you want to touch them?” I asked him.

He nodded.

“Do you want to kiss them?”

He swallowed hard and nodded again.

“Okay, Gary. You can kiss them. On one condition.” His eyes were huge. He was ready to drop to his knees and worship my boots. I could tell. “Strip,” I said.

Gary stripped. I admired every moment. This was a new situation for us. We’d played in assorted kinky ways in the past, but I had never taken control. I could feel the power radiating through me as Gary ditched his silk boxers and stood in all of his naked glory in front of me. If I’d had a cock, I would have sported a mammoth erection. As it was, I could feel my pussy growing wetter by the second. There was a moment when I hesitated. Could I actually step into the role of a domme? But then I gazed into Gary’s hopeful eyes, and I looked down at my fabulous boots, and I pushed my boyfriend to his knees.

“You may kiss my boots,” I told him.

He fell to the task immediately, kissing the tips of my boots, kissing all the way up to the top. I admired him from where I stood. The muscles in his back danced and flexed. His gorgeous asscheeks were lifted in the air as he moved to the second boot to continue his worship.

“Let’s bring this to the bedroom,” I said. My voice was hoarse, a sultry whisper. Gary seemed pleased with the suggestion, and I was pleased when he didn’t stand. He crawled on his hands and knees down the hall to our bedroom. Once inside, he looked up at me expectantly. That same rush of power flickered through me. I seemed to know instinctively how to proceed.

“Get on the bed,” I said. “I want you on your back.”

Gary obeyed immediately. His erection pointed toward our ceiling. His cock was dripping pre-come. His whole body seemed to be trembling in anticipation. I walked around the bed, staring at him, deciding what to do next. My brocade robe was hanging from the back of our door. I pulled the belt free and used the soft fabric to tie Gary’s wrists together over his head. He sighed as I fastened the loop. Then he bucked his hips upward, and I shook my head.

“You behave,” I told him, “or I’ll have to punish you.”

The look on Gary’s face was priceless. It was as if I’d said the magic word.

“Oh,” I purred. “So you want me to punish you.” Gary groaned as I wrapped my hand around his cock and squeezed lightly. “That makes sense,” I said, almost talking to myself. I replayed different memories in my mind, times when Gary had shown himself to be submissive, times I’d dismissed the little tells. Now I knew, and now we were going to have an explosive night.

I licked the head of Gary’s cock because I couldn’t help myself. With the sheen of his pre-come decorating the tip, his dick was simply too yummy. Gary bucked his hips again, and I shook my head. “You stay still for me,” I said. “I’ll let you know when you can get off.”

I stripped, but made sure to put my boots back on. Then I straddled Gary’s mouth, with my face toward his cock. I told him that if he licked me just right, I would punish him afterward. Gary set about the task of sucking my pussy as if this was the best treat he’d ever been offered. He flicked my clit and then thrust his tongue up inside me. Every time he sucked my clit, I used my hand to pump his dick. We found a delicious rhythm in no time, and I was soon grinding my cunt hard on his face as his cock throbbed in my grip.

But although I allowed myself to climax, I made sure Gary didn’t reach his reward. As I moved off him, I saw his shiny, hopeful face.

“Roll over,” I said.

Gingerly, because his erection was so stiff, Gary rolled over on the mattress. I left to grab his belt from his discarded clothes and pulled the leather from the loops of his slacks. When I returned to the bedroom, Gary stared at me in wonder over his shoulder. His wrists were still bound, and his body was like one, taut wire. I snapped the leather, and we both jumped. This was new territory, so I said, “Do you want this?” to make sure we were on the same page.

“Oh, yes,” he said, and his words were more of a moan.

“I’ll give you ten,” I said, “and then you can come.” I couldn’t believe how aroused I became from whipping him. I’d never done anything like this before with any lover. The belt landed on his bare skin with such a satisfying sound. The way he shifted on the mattress made my pussy wet all over again. I knew I should have gone slow, taken my time, stretched out the scene. But I couldn’t. I landed ten blistering strokes, and then I dropped the belt and had Gary roll back over.

He deserved the bliss I gave him. I joined him on the bed and then straddled him, my pussy hovering right over the head of his cock. “Are you ready?” I asked him.

His eyes were huge. He nodded.

“Say, ‘Yes, Mistress,’” I insisted.

The words were out of his mouth almost before I’d finished speaking. I let myself slowly slide down his glorious cock. We moaned simultaneously. The pleasure was immense, nearly overwhelming. I pushed up on my thighs and let myself slide back down again. My boots were pressed to Gary’s legs. I knew the feel of them against his skin was turning him on even more.

I raked my short nails across his chest, and he shivered. I pinched his nipples as I worked myself on his cock, and he bucked me into the air. I could tell he was getting close to release. I’ve had the experience of watching his expressions change when we make love. Now I said, “Yeah, baby, you can come. Come with me.” Then I rubbed my clit as I powered up and down, and the two of us reached climax together.

I undid Gary’s bindings, and we cuddled together on the bed. I let one boot press against him, and he kissed me fiercely and told me how spectacular the scene had been for him.

Now I know that when I buy a new pair of boots, I won’t only be fulfilling my own fetish, I’ll also be pleasing my man. — Ms. Jennifer R., Seattle, Washington