Lesbian Cowboys

by Sacchi Green

  Derrie huffed a laugh. “I could just give you fifty bucks for the space if you want payment, although the tourist bureau might have something to say about the standard.”

  “It’s not payment,” Lou said, carefully feeling her way, even as her fingers dared another inch of skin. “I thought it might be welcomed.” The coil of anticipation in her belly wound a little tighter.

  Derrie turned her head and her eyes glittered. “All we do is fight.”

  “Then fight me.” Lou held her breath; if she’d been reading this wrong...

  With a lunge, Derrie ducked her head, pressing her lips to the crease of Lou’s neck and shoulder. Small, sharp teeth nipped her skin, and her breath burned Lou’s collarbone. Her hand—surprisingly strong—pressed Lou backwards into the side of the swag.

  Lou’s breath left her in a rush, and Kel growled a warning.

  “It’s okay, Kel,” she managed, before her mouth was covered by Derrie’s, all hot breath and tongue, all moisture and searching lips. Derrie’s hands roamed freely, down from her collarbone, down over the slope of breast, to find a nipple. It peaked sharply against Derrie’s fingers.

  Derrie rolled and pinched, and the delicious edge of pain sent shafts of delight down deep into Lou’s belly. Derrie’s mouth suckled hard on her neck, and the bloom of pain spread warmly over her skin. The other woman had the upper hand, and Lou let her take full advantage, moving unresistingly onto her back when Derrie moved further on top. Lean, sinewy legs tangled with Lou’s, and she thrilled at the friction of skin on skin; Derrie’s thigh moving insistently between her own, her warm flesh pressing on her core.

  Lou wrapped one hand into the thick hair that tickled her neck and tugged, forcing Derrie’s face up. She was flushed, her mouth open as she panted in the close confines of the swag. With a growl, Lou pulled her face down to her own, and they kissed again, tongues tangling and echoing the thrust and fierceness of their bodies. Lou traced the bumps of Derrie’s spine, curving her hand lower, over flat boyish buttocks, as firm and muscular as Ruby’s rump. Her slight breasts were mashed into Lou’s own fuller ones, her nipples as hard and round as cherry pits.

  Now that the invitation was offered and accepted, the urgency muted, sliding seamlessly into a lazy passion. Lou’s world contracted to a dark and secret place of animalistic noises and movement. The swag’s hood blocked much of the starlight, leaving the two of them encased in dim shadows and confining cloth. The rustle of the inner sheet sounded harsh and loud, amplified by their closed quarters; and Derrie’s breathing, fast and rasping, drowned out the drumbeat of Lou’s heart. It was elemental: touch, sound, and smell. Derrie was musky, her hair smoky from the campfire, the sharp tang of eucalyptus, the warm fug of a body that works itself hard.

  For long minutes Lou explored, finding the way around Derrie’s body, mapping how her palms curved over planes of muscle and flesh, tracing the edge of a breast, the arch of buttock, the wing of hip, and reaching down to find steely muscles and firm, toned thighs. In turn, Derrie’s fingers walked their way around Lou’s flesh, circling slowly, teasingly, never quite contacting where Lou wanted them the most.

  Derrie shifted again, so that the two women lay facing each other. Enough starlight filtered through that Lou could see Derrie’s eyes, open and glittering, intent upon her face. Now, she could explore properly. Her fingers sought the other woman’s slight breast, tracing the swell, walking in decreasing circles toward her nipple. When she finally reached her goal, her lips followed her fingers, and she shuffled forward, taking the nubbin between her lips, suckling, feeling Derrie’s shaky sigh in the hitch of her breathing. Gently, she bit, thrilling at the instinctive arch of Derrie’s body toward hers.

  Derrie wasn’t passive. Her hand tangled in Lou’s hair, pulling her up until they could kiss again. Unlike the urgency of their first kiss, this was a dreamy languorous thing, a feather-light touch of heat and starlight. Touch and withdraw, their lips met, tasted, and parted again. Derrie’s hand snaked down between their bodies, along the edge of Lou’s thigh, reversing direction and creeping up the inner surface. Caught in the confines of the swag, Lou tried to raise her upper leg, allow the smaller woman better access, but the sheet didn’t give, and the best she managed was a small space.

  It was enough. Derrie’s fingers moved up, moved in, touching hair, stroking her slick folds, and sliding slowly between. One finger, two. Derrie’s fingers twisted, pistoning, her thumb rubbing insistently on Lou’s clit.

  “I wish I could taste you,” Derrie murmured into her mouth. “I wish I could push my mouth against your cunt and lick you until you came.”

  “Oh, yes,” breathed Lou, “do it, please.”

  “No room,” said Derrie, succinctly, and her fingers insinuated themselves farther into the slick channel.

  In between the coils of feeling, the spiraling pressure in her belly, Lou could appreciate the skillful fingers. Derrie was intent on discovery, and Lou gave herself over to the sensations. Her hands clenched on Derrie’s hips as she ground onto her fingers, letting the pressure build until she overflowed in an explosion of climax, as fast and fierce and gushing as a mountain creek.

  Derrie pulled her fingers from Lou’s cunt, bringing them up to her lips. “Sweet,” she murmured, as she licked them clean.

  As her heartbeat returned to normal, Lou wrapped her arms around the other woman, aligning their bodies tightly. Dipping her head, she explored the curve of neck and shoulder, letting her lips drift over her skin. It was warm in the confines of the swag, and she tasted salt, smelled the grassy tang of fresh sweat.

  “Turn around,” she murmured, pushing on Derrie’s hip until she complied.

  Derrie’s buttocks pushed backwards into her thighs, and Lou raised her own so that they were spooned tightly together. Now she had the entire sweet package to explore at her leisure. Her hands glided smoothly from shoulder, around and over her breasts, down to the thick patch of hair between her thighs.

  Derrie shuddered in her arms. “Get on with it,” she said, tightly.

  “Impatient.” A smile curved her mouth, and she nuzzled aside the wiry hair and rested her lips on the nape of Derrie’s neck. Deliberately, she combed through the hair between her lover’s thighs, parting the coarse curls, tickling lightly on her pussy lips.

  Derrie’s buttocks pushed insistently back once more, her body coiled and tight against Lou’s own.

  Taking pity, Lou cupped her mound, pushing her fingers firmly into the thicket, parting her folds to delve between. Derrie’s clit was a rigid pearl, slick and hot. Lou circled lightly, not knowing how heavy a touch the other woman liked.

  Derrie’s hand jerked down, pressing over Lou’s, forcing a firmer feel. Emboldened, Lou rubbed harder, spreading her creamy moisture around, until Derrie stiffened, her heels drumming into Lou’s calves with an urgent, staccato beat. Her sigh was loud in the musky darkness, a long susurration of completion. Gently, she lifted Lou’s hand from her cunt, cupping it with her own, holding it against her breast.

  Lou curled up again around her lover, and settled in for sleep.

  October 2007 - Bogong High Plains, Victoria, Australia

  “You shouldn’t be here!”

  She was beak-nosed and quivering; lean and tight-strung as fencing wire. Underneath her fleece beanie, her eyes beamed in pleasure.

  “No?” Lou continued squatting at the small fire, enamel mug of coffee in her hand. “You came back.” By her side, Kelsey yapped a small welcome.

  Derrie slung her hefty pack down by the fire. “I did. But this time, I’ve got camping gear, so if I’m imposing, you can tell me where to go.”

  “No,” said Lou. “You’re not imposing.”

  Overhead the cockatoos wheeled like fluttering rags against the charcoal sky, and although the air was heavy with impending rain, the evening stretched warmly in front of her.

  BAREBACK

  DeJay

  I push through the screen door onto the porch, leaving Mag
gie to deal with the dishes while I come out to get some air and enjoy a cold drink. For a moment I stand still, leaning on the rail, then stretch from left to right and back again. My back is stiff and achy, my knee swollen from too much use. I’ve been riding the fenceline all day making repairs with my foreman, digging postholes and hanging barbed wire, both of which did little to ease my arthritic body.

  I relax and listen to the quiet of the evening, thankful to be erect instead of still in the saddle. I’m always amazed at how noisy the quiet can be if you know what your ears capture. I can hear the water as it ripples over the rocks in the brook out back. The chickadees call to their mates, while an owl to the west is on the hunt for its evening meal. A slight breeze rustles the leaves on the mammoth oak tree here in the front of the house.

  I lean a hip on the rail and pick up my beer from the floor, and after a long pull on the bottle I shift my shoulders and rotate my neck, the tension of a hard day on the range slowly evaporating. I shake my head, disgusted with the aches and pains. When the hell did I get so old?

  I decide to walk down to the paddock and check on two brood mares, both about to foal. I can hear Moon neighing as I approach. The horse greets me with ears up and nickers, moving slowly to the fence, where I greet her with a thorough rub of her muzzle. “How you doing, girl?” I run my hand down her neck and pat her. “Sounds like tonight could be the night, whadda ya think, hmm?”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  A smile sweeps across my lips. “It’s about damn time, woman.” Though I can’t really see clearly in the dark, Maggie’s image is emblazoned on my mind, her sweet smile, sun-kissed cheeks, and strands of auburn hair mixed mostly with gray now. Her loose braid hangs down the middle of her back. Tight curls break away to frame her heart-shaped face.

  She touches my shoulder before turning to talk with Moon. I watch as she whispers to the horse, a secret language that only they seem to understand. Moon’s head bobs up and down as though in agreement.

  I walk up behind Maggie, wrap my arms around her middle, nuzzle her neck, and kiss her cheek. “So what’s the verdict?”

  She leans back against me, radiating warmth. “She’s going to foal tonight, I’m sure of it.”

  “I agree. We should take her into the birthing stall where she’ll be more comfortable. Will you get the door to the stables?”

  I release Maggie and enter the paddock, moving slowly so Moon doesn’t get spooked. “It’s okay, girl, I’m just going to check you out.” I reach up and grasp her mane with one hand to hold her while I run my other over her swollen belly. She flinches slightly. I move to her rump and examine the tailhead muscles. They’re soft and lax, a good indication that Moon’s time is near.

  Maggie has returned, and hands me a halter.

  “What do you think?”

  When I give the lead rope a gentle tug, Moon walks quietly along beside me. I guide her into the stall and then rub her down again. “Her water hasn’t broken yet, so it will be a while, but she’ll be happier in here.” I bring her fresh water, step out of the stall, and close the gate.

  “How long?”

  I grin at my impatient wife. “Do I look like Mother Nature?”

  She swats at my arm. “Take a guess, damn it.”

  “Definitely tonight, maybe a couple hours, I’m not really sure.” The worry is clear on Maggie’s face. “She’s going to do fine. I’ll stay out here tonight with her just in case.”

  Maggie hugs me tightly. “I love you.”

  “Love you too.” I lean in and kiss her gently. “Maybe later, after the new foal arrives, we can celebrate?” I waggle my eyebrows lecherously at her.

  Maggie shakes her head. “Let’s just see if you’re still awake later, old woman.” She moves to push away.

  I kiss her again, cup her ass, pull her closer still. “We have a date when this is over, don’t forget that.”

  Maggie cups my face, presses her lips to mine in gentle surrender. “I’ll be back.”

  “Why?”

  She releases me and walks away, her jeans hugging her round hips. Tantalizing hips that sway with each step. “I’m going to get us some jackets and a blanket. If you’re real good, I might bring some coffee.”

  I call after her. “You don’t have to stay with me.”

  “I’m not.” I hear her snort. “I’m staying with Moon.” Her laughter echoes as she strolls up to the main house.

  I reach up and rub Moon’s muzzle. “Hear that? She loves you more.” The horse stares at me as if she agrees. Her ears prick up, and she nickers deep in her throat. “Don’t be afraid, you’re gonna do just fine, and I’ll be here the whole time.” I pat her neck, step back, walk to the wall, and flip the switch to dim the lights. That will help to settle her. I go into the stable’s office on the far wall, where I gather towels, rubber gloves, and surgical scrub. Once Moon’s water breaks, there won’t be time. I want to be sure we’re prepared. I grab the phone from the office and plug it into the jack by Moon’s stall, just in case.

  Maggie returns almost an hour later with coats, blankets, and a picnic basket.

  “What took you so long?”

  She glares at me as if I’m a spoiled child. “I made you brownies, if you must know.” Maggie glances at Moon and back to me. “How’s she doing?”

  I start to laugh. “You’re like a nervous Nellie. Relax, this is going to take as long as it takes. You can’t rush her or upset her.”

  She sticks her tongue out at me. We’ve been anxious for weeks now. This is Moon’s first time, but with luck she’ll produce a healthy offspring. Who knows, maybe even a champion.

  My nose alerts me to the scent of fresh brewed coffee and the heavenly aroma of the brownies. “Smells great!” I reach for the basket.

  She pulls it out of my reach. “What can I do?”

  I walk to the stall across from Moon’s and motion Maggie inside. I’ve set up a small table and some bales of hay to lie on while we await this much-anticipated event. I have a small electric lantern lit as well, so we can see while we wait. “Relax, honey, this could take a while.”

  “Do you have the towels, the kits, and…?”

  I gently nudge her into the stall and relieve her of one of the blankets. “Yes, I do, and everything is ready.” I shake out the cover and spread it over the top of the hay bales.

  Maggie places the basket on the table and opens it, pulling out a thermos and two cups. “Coffee?”

  “Please.” I slip the jacket on to ward off the chill of night and then attempt to sneak a peak at the brownies, a personal favorite.

  Maggie’s hand slaps mine away. “I’ll get you one, but you can only have three, so pace yourself.” With that she pulls out a paper plate with a small one-inch square of brownie.

  “Why?”

  “Your blood pressure is why, and you know it.” She hands me the plate and closes the lid.

  “You weren’t worried about my blood pressure the other night on the porch or this morning.” My temper makes my voice harsher than I mean it to be.

  Maggie takes my hand. “I always worry, but you hate that I do.”

  I shrug. “Sorry.”

  She leans in and kisses my cheek.

  “Do we have whipped cream?”

  Maggie picks up her coffee and takes a sip. “Didn’t you use all of that the other morning?” Her voice holds a hint of admonishment.

  “Oh, yeah.” The memory of her breasts covered in fluffy whipped cream makes me smile. “What about chocolate syrup?”

  She shakes her finger at me. “You used that Saturday night.” The rasp of her voice lets me know she’s still not forgiven me.

  “Oops.”

  “Yeah, I’ll oops you. I’m still trying to get the stain out. Those were our good silk sheets, too.” Maggie pinches the last piece of brownie from my plate and pops it in her mouth. “Carol wanted to know if we had been mud wrestling.”

  I want to laugh but know better. Instead I put down the empty pla
te and my coffee, pull her close, and capture her lips in a kiss. The heat simmering just beneath the surface is the way it’s always been with us.

  Maggie tugs my hair, hard. “Stop.” She walks over to Moon’s stall, and I follow her.

  Moon sees Maggie and comes to the gate, bobbing her head. Maggie pets the horse, the love between them a wonder to experience.

  I wrap my arms around Maggie and nuzzle her neck. “Excited?”

  She nods, tears in her eyes.

  I push her hair out of the way in order to trail some kisses across the back of her neck.

  Maggie arches her neck to give me better access. “Did you get the fence repaired out in the north pasture?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I slip my hands up to cup her breasts, her nipples hard little nubs under the material. “Matt and I dug all new postholes and set them in along the entire breach.” I run my tongue along her jaw. “The wood was rotted. I think some deer or elk took it down. Nothing malicious.” I reach for the button on her plaid shirt.

  She stops my progress. “I told you the last time, no more outdoor activities.”

  I move my hands down to her hips and pull her tight. Her ass covers my crotch, and my hips jerk in anticipation.

  “Bet.”

  “Hmm?” I keep applying soft kisses as I move my hands back to her breasts.

  “Bernice Elizabeth Thatcher.” She gasps as I increase the pressure on her nipples. “Ohh, please…honey.”

  I release her breasts and hold her close, burying my face in her hair, taking in the smell of her. A mixture of baking brownies, apple spice from her shampoo, and perspiration after a long day of chores. “You know, there was a time when you wouldn’t have asked me to stop.”

  Maggie turns in my arms. “Yes, and we were a lot younger and more able-bodied.”

  “My body’s still able, it’s just slower now.” I kiss her on the lips, and whisper in her ear, “I thought you liked slower.” Maggie turns back to the horse, a blush coloring her cheeks.

  I stand behind her, content for the moment. “We could always use the accommodations across the aisle; I might even come up with a surprise for you.”