FILTHY: A Steamy Romance Collection

by Brent, Amy

  The hypnotic drone of the tires on pavement and Luke’s soft snoring were making me sleepy. I turned on the radio just loud enough to hear it. I searched through the dial until I heard an old familiar song: Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. It was playing the last night I was with Luke. It had always reminded me of him. And it always would.

  * * *

  I was just eighteen the last time I saw Luke, but I thought I was ready to take on the world. I had spent my entire life on a dusty Texas cattle ranch and now it was time to spread my wings and fly out into the great big world to see what my future might bring.

  Luke was feeling the same, although our paths would take us in completely different directions.

  He was just twenty and so full of life people would have paid to be around him. All the boys wanted to be him and all the girls wanted to fuck him. He was always happy and smiling and carrying on some kind of mess, but he was never happier than when he was hanging onto the back of a mad bull or a bucking bronco.

  I loved watching him back then, the way the muscles in his right arm flexed as he held on to the latigo, hoping to hang on for eight seconds, the minimum time required to earn points.

  He’d dig in the heels of his dirty boots into the side of the bull and let his left arm flail in the air as his whole body came up off the bull’s back and slammed back down. He always lost his hat right out of the gate. His long blond hair whipped as the bull’s hooves beat into the ground and it bucked its curved back, doing its best to throw him off.

  All Luke could talk about was getting on the circuit so he could travel from town to town riding bulls and collecting trophies and silver belt buckles. His ambition only went as far as the next town and the next bull. That was one thing we argued about sometimes. I was hell bent on making something of myself and Luke has hell-bent on being the next Ty Murray.

  Even though we knew we’d be apart for some time, I thought we had an understanding that one day we’d meet back in Calloway and start a life together. I reckon it’s like my daddy always said: you can plan out your life, but eventually life will get in the way of your plans.

  The last time we made love was in the early fall when the air in Texas gets just slightly less humid and the days don’t last as long. I had already enrolled in Texas A&M and was set to leave at the end of the week for College Station. Luke had entered a rodeo in Brownsville and was set to leave first thing in the morning. This was not supposed to be our last night together. It was just supposed to be our last night together for a while.

  Luke had an old pickup truck that was held together by rust and duct tape. We used to sneak off it in and drive out to Myers Lake and park on the river back and make love in the bench seat. Or it the back. Or in it lake. Or on the hood. Heck, we were like horny little rabbits back then. We’d do it anywhere, anytime, any way we could.

  Luke pulled up to the end of the lake and put the truck in park. He set the parking brake because the old truck had a tendency to roll. He shut off the clunky engine, but left the radio on. Wonderful Tonight came on and Luke started singing to me. The boy had lots of talents, but singing wasn’t one of them. I told him to quit singing and kiss me.

  It was after nine o’clock, but the full moon shining on the lake gave the cab of the truck a warm, bluish glow. We had the windows down. A cool breeze was wafting in. It made my nipples stand on end as Luke pulled my t-shirt over my head. I wasn’t wearing a bra. I never wore a bra when I was with Luke. It only slowed him down.

  I shimmied out of my cutoff jeans and panties while he stripped off his clothes. I leaned back against the door and brought my legs up in the seat. Luke moved in on me with a grin on his face. He pressed his moist lips to mine as his hands kneaded my tits. He rolled my nipples between his fingers. I moaned and sucked on his tongue. I could feel my hot juices pooling in my young cunt, sluicing down my taint and asshole, filling the truck with the scent of my sex.

  I reached for Luke’s cock, finding it hard and ready, like always. The boy was hung like a horse and it took two hands to hold it all. I slowly worked my hands back and forth, sliding the skin over the hard muscle. I cupped his balls. They were tight and warm. I gently rolled the sack between my fingers as my other hand milked his long cock.

  “I want your cock inside me,” I sighed in his ear. My tongue slid inside his ear. He giggled and pulled back so he could look at me. His left hand remained on my breast as his right hand slid down my stomach toward my pussy. I didn’t trim my pubes back then, so I had a pretty good crop of strawberry-blond curls. Luke playfully scratched at the hair for a moment, then slid his long finger over my clit and into my pussy, finding me soaking and hot for him.

  I closed my eyes and replaced his hands on my tits with my own. I squeezed my milky globes until it hurt. My nipples were long and thick. I took them between my thumbs and forefingers and gave them a squeeze.

  Luke pushed himself up and took his cock in his right hand and stroked it as he watched me play with my tits. Our eyes met and he smiled. I was too young to know what love was back then, but I was sure he loved me just by the way he looked at me.

  “You want some of this?” Luke asked, squeezing his cock to make the head mushroom. A little drop of juice came out of the slit. I wiped it off with the tip of my finger, then put the finger in my mouth.

  “Yes,” I moaned, pushing my hips off the seat. “I want your big cock inside me. Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Luke said with a grin. He gripped my hips and pulled me toward him. He pressed the bulbous head of his cock to my hole and slid it around for a moment, lubing it up. I was young and tight and he we big and girthy. We had to be careful because his cock could have literally ripped me in two.

  The breath caught in my throat when he slid in the head. I felt my pussy opening for him, spreading, waiting to take him inside. I put my hands on his arms and held my breath as he slid in another inch, and then another. When he got half way in, he hit my cervix. It always made him smile when that happened. He began to slowly draw his cock out, then slide it slowly back in.

  My body caught fire as my pussy stretched and squeezed his massive cock. He closed his eyes and moaned. “Goddamn girl, that has to be the tightest pussy in Texas.”

  “You complaining?” I asked, giving him a sly smile.

  “No, ma’am,” he said, the words coming on gusts of breath. “I’m just happy to be invited to the party.”

  “Then shut up and fuck me, cowboy,” I said, hands squeezing my tits again.

  Luke started hammering it to me, pushing me against the door with each thrust. I swear, that old truck felt like it was rocking back and forth. He thrust into me as far as he could do, then quickly pulled back and thrust in again. I could feel his cock filling up my entire body. I could feel him in my chest and in my head. I imagined that I taste his cum in the back of my throat.

  “Fuck… Luke… fuck… yes… oh shit… yes…”

  “I’m cummin’,” he moaned, his body tensing up. I opened my eyes to watch him. Every muscle along his shoulders and neck were thick and pumped, with veins pulsing the blood toward his cock. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He was cumming, long and hard, filling me with hot seed. I could feel it pumping into me, hot, thick, wonderful.

  I curled my toes and came with him. The orgasm hit with a shudder that made my whole body jump. My pussy ignited, sending shockwaves to every nerve. I squirted my juices all over his cock, all the way back to his dark pubes and balls.

  He thrust into me a few more times, then blew out a long sigh that seemed to deflate his entire body. With his fingers still dug into my hips and his cock still inside me, Luke gave me a sad smile and shook his head.

  “I’m gonna miss you, Lil Sis,” he said.

  I smiled back at him with tears in my eyes. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

  The next morning I stood in the front yard with Cody and Daddy, watching Luke drive away in his old truck. I waved along with them with tears in my eyes.

 
I had no idea at that moment that it would be six years before I saw Luke again. If I had known, maybe I would not have let him drive away on his own.

  Shelby

  “Hey, Shelby, did you hear me?”

  I thought I was still lost in my memories when I heard Luke call my name. I shook my head to clear it, then glanced over at him. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “I asked where we were?” he said, sliding up in the seat. He held on to his side and winced as he looked out the windows. “Damn, it’s dark already.”

  “It’s been dark for a while,” I said. “We’re still a couple of hours out. There was a wreck on I-9 coming out of Houston, so we’re running behind.”

  “Okay,” he said with a long sigh. He glanced around the cab of the truck. “Do you have anything to drink? My mouth is dry as a Texas mudhole.”

  There was half a bottle of water in the cup holder. I took it out and handed it to him. “It’s probably not cold,” I said. I narrowed my eyes at the road ahead. Other than occasional car lights coming from the other direction, the road was dark as pitch as it wound through the Texas countryside.

  “I think there’s a little truck stop a couple of miles down,” he said.

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  He sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Darlin’, I’ve traveled this old road so many times I can tell you how many mailboxes there are between here and Calloway County.”

  “How many?” I asked, grinning without looking at him.

  “Three hundred and twenty-two,” he said. “Not counting the trailer park in Lynnville, which changes every time a twister comes through.”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  He chuckled and put a hand to his side.

  “Does it hurt?” I asked.

  “Only when I laugh,” he said. He twisted the cap off the water bottle and chugged it down. Wiping his lips on the back of his hand, he nodded at the neon truck stop sign that appeared ahead.

  “There it is,” he said. “How about you buy me a burger for old time’s sake.”

  I started to tell him to buy his own damn burger, but I made the mistake of glancing over while he was looking my way. Our eyes locked for a moment and it was almost like we were back at the lake in the cab of his old truck.

  I felt an old familiar twitch between my legs.

  My nipples plumped inside my bra.

  I had to resist the urge to pull off on the side of the road and attack him.

  I cleared my throat and turned on the blinker.

  “All right,” I said. “One burger for old time’s sake.”

  Luke

  I’d traveled this stretch of I-9 so many times I could do it with my eyes closed.

  When you ride the rodeo circuit, you spend about eight seconds a week on the back of a bull if you’re lucky, and the rest of the time getting to the next ride.

  I usually came out in the top two or three at most events, which meant a trophy I didn’t give a shit about and a few hundred dollars in prize money.

  Take the top spot and they tossed in a silver belt buckle with a cowboy riding a bull or a bronco on it. I had a fucking glove box full of the damn things. Try paying your rent with a silver belt buckle.

  The only one I gave two shits about was the one I was wearing when I was gored. I had earned it two years ago from the National Rodeo Association for being the top bull rider on the Texas circuit.

  It wasn’t worth much monetarily, but it had sentimental value to me. I took great pride in being the top bull rider that year; and not because it got me laid a lot by the cowgirls who kept up with such things.

  It was proof that I hadn’t wasted my time. And even though I barely earned enough to keep gas in the tank and food in my belly, I wouldn’t trade my time on the circuit for anything.

  When I started riding professionally six years ago, I had dreams of becoming the next Ty Murray, really the only guy ever to make a decent living as a rodeo rider. I quickly learned that I was no Ty Murray, but it was too late to turn back by then. I was addicted. I had bull riding shooting through my veins like a drug addict had heroin. I lived for those eight seconds of hanging on for dear life.

  Now, with this gash in my side, I wondered if I’d ever climb back on a bull again. Over the years, I had suffered more concussions that most NFL players and had broken more bones than Evel Knievel. But I’d never given a moment’s thought to quitting. At least not before now. My brain was telling me it was time to hang up my spurs, but my heart was screaming bullshit. I reckoned all I could do was just wait and see which part of me won out.

  “This looks like a great place to get food poisoning,” Shelby said as she pulled into the lot, gravel crunching under the big tires. Mel’s One Stop was a combination convenience store, greasy spoon diner, and ten-room motel.

  The place looked like it had been there since Davy Crockett’s time, but I knew from experience that Mel’s had the best greasy hamburger in this part of Texas. I used to bang a waitress who worked there, a skinny gal with little tits and a tight box named Janine something or other. She’d give me free food and I’d give it to her hard and fast in the men’s room. We both considered it a fair trade.

  “It’s a great place to get lots of things,” I said as she parked us among the few pickups already in the gravel lot. I unbuckled the seat belt and held onto the door to slide out of the truck. I held on to the door for a moment till I got my sea legs.

  I was a little wobbly at first, but I felt better than I had felt in a long time. Just getting out of that hospital seemed to do me a world of good. By the time Shelby came around the truck to see if I needed help, I had slammed the door and was managing to walk pretty well on my own.

  “Hang on and let me help you,” she said, clutching my arm. The moment her fingers touched my skin I felt little sparks shoot through my body like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. I started to pull away and tell her I could do it myself, but I liked the way her hands felt on my arm.

  “I’m just a little wobbly,” I said, lying now so she wouldn’t let go of me. I sniffed the air between us. She smelled of shampoo and soap, with just a hint of sweat. I used to spend hours licking the sweat off her naked body, like a kid licking an ice cream cone. The thought made my cock twitch a little. I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind. I wasn’t wearing underwear and the last thing I needed was to walk into a truck stop with my big old pecker sticking out.

  She opened the door and led me inside. We were greeted by stale air and the smell of grease. There were three cowboys at the counter, being served by an older waitress who told us to sit anywhere. Shelby led me to the farthest booth from the door and helped me get situated. She slid into the booth across from me and picked up the menu, which was just a half sheet of laminated paper with the choices written out in red magic marker.

  “Well, apparently, they only serve burgers and fries,” she said, a little condescendingly, like she expected the place to have fucking lobster and caviar on the menu. She held out the menu so I could see it. “What’ll it be? A single, double, or a Mel’s Special?”

  “What’s a Mel’s Special?” I asked.

  She read from the menu. “Three hamburger patties, three slices of American cheese, one fried egg, three strips of bacon, jalapeno peppers, lettuce, tomato, pickle… and a complimentary call to 911 after your heart seizes up.”

  The goofy look on her pretty face made me smile. I said, “I’ll just have a single with fries and a Coke.”

  The waitress came over to take our order, then returned a minute later with two Cokes. She gave me a funny look, probably wondering where I had stolen the hospital scrubs from. Clearly, I was not a medical professional.

  “So, how have you been?” I asked after taking a long sip of the Coke. It felt good going down my throat, which was still scratchy and sore from the breathing tube they’d shoved down it a week before. I let my eyes drift around her face. She was even prettier now than she was the last time
I’d seen her.

  “Better than you,” she said, giving me the look. You know, the look: the look a woman gives a man when she’s pissed about something, and then gets even more pissed that the man has no idea what she was pissed about in the first place.

  She said, “You look like shit.”

  “Well, darlin’, I happen to feel a little like shit at the moment,” I said. I held my side and leaned over the table. “You wanna tell me what you’re so mad about? I mean, Jesus, I haven’t seen you in six years and rather than being glad to see me, you’re acting like you’re ready to bite my head off.”

  She folded her arms over her big boobs and glared at me. “You know very well why I’m mad at you.”

  I shook my head. “No, ma’am, I very well do not. Last time I saw you, things were fine between us. I haven’t talked to you in six years. What the hell did I do to piss you off?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Maybe that’s why I’m pissed.”

  I fell back in the seat and blew out a long sigh. Goddammit, trying to understand a woman was like trying to play piano with your toes: it was possible, but only a few people could do it and I wasn’t one of them.

  “Shelby, please, before I die, tell me what that means.”

  She huffed at me. She looked like she was ready to jerk me across the table and mop up the floor with me. In my weakened condition, there would not have been much I could have done to stop her.

  The waitress brought our burgers over and set them in front of us. After a week of shitty hospital food, I thought the burgers smelled and looked delicious, but Shelby looked at hers like it was a trough of pig slop. I picked up the ketchup and squirted it all over my fries.

  “When did you get so fuckin’ snotty?” I asked, picking up three fries and swirling them through the ketchup before shoving them into my mouth.