Buck Me Cowboy

But my feet skidded to a halt, eyes going wide as the air in my lungs froze. Because oh my god, the man had rolled slightly while I was gone, and suddenly it was there, in full view. A huge ridge showed itself under the stiff denim, long and thick, demanding and impossibly masculine. Immediately, my pussy moistened. Was that … was that … ?

I couldn’t even finish the thought because I’ve never seen a man’s privates before, not in real life. Sure, there’s on-line stuff and I’m not above looking at a little porn on my laptop now and then. But faced with the real thing, my heart beat unsteadily, insides mushy and hot. Because what would his cock be like? What would it feel like? Rubbery? Hot? Stiff? Soft? What color would it be, exactly?

I flushed, embarrassed. Oh my god, these thoughts were so wrong. A man was literally bleeding out on my property, and instead of saving his life, I was ogling his package.

You should be ashamed, the voice in my head scolded again. You should be ashamed, Maisie Jones.

But I couldn’t feel bad for some reason. Maybe it’s because I’ve never seen a man, but suddenly, the choice was clear. Because I wanted to see him. I wanted to see that huge fuckshaft, gleaming and strong, proud and naked.

Quickly, I stole a look at the stranger’s face. Good. He was still out like light, and my heart beat quickly, fluttering like a butterfly.

Taking the huge ten-inch shears in hand, I began snipping at his jeans. Starting at the knee, I cut upwards, all the way to his waistband, and then down, all the way to his ankle. The denim fell away like paper beneath the sharp edges, and pretty soon, my handsome stranger was nude waist-down, wearing nothing but air.

And shit, but my pussy throbbed then, wet with fluids. Because his monster lay out in the open now, and my mouth watered hungrily. Thick and long, the dark pink snake lay against one thigh, reaching almost to his knee. The head was a deep, shiny purple, in contrast to the veined skin of his shaft, powerful even in rest.

Oh my god, oh my god. My breath came in shallow, uneven pants, pussy tingling delightedly. What would it be like to feel that anaconda inside? What would it feel like to ride that magic stick of glory, the shaft crammed deep into my most private part? I whined slightly then, unable to stop myself, almost drooling with need at the sight of the hard man meat.

But my conscience swept in again.

You’re such a slut, Maisie Jones! It screamed. You’re thinking of sleeping with a man while he’s bleeding to death? What’s wrong with you? Get with the picture!

And at that, I leapt into motion. Immediately, the antiseptic was in my hands and I cleaned off the wound with quick, sure strokes. The gash was wide but not deep, and definitely not life-threatening, it just bled a lot. This guy was lucky, he’d escaped with just a surface injury.

So my hands swift and confident like a professional nurse, I bound his leg in gauze, my small hands only sometimes brushing against the huge snake. Trying not to breathe, it’d slip past my palms, once, twice, and my fingers would jerk involuntarily. But right, there was work to do, so I put my head down and kept my eyes on the prize. The leg injury, not his massive monster.

And once I was done, I sat back on my heels, boobs heaving up and down with adrenaline, face flushed. The straw was matted in blood, and I was a mess, panting and sweaty. But my dark stranger was going to live. He was absolutely going to live, and slowly, my eyes slid over to his frame again.

Oh god, the cowboy was handsome enough to take my breath away. The light had improved, and now I could see that strong profile, a bit of dark stubble on his jaw. Plus his hair was an inky black, skin bronzed from lots of work outdoors, with broad shoulders and a thick, powerful chest.

But my eyes just wouldn’t behave. They kept sliding downwards, down, down, down, until I was looking straight at that massive cock again. And my mouth went dry once more. Because his length was impressive, almost hitting the knee, but it was also the width. He was as big around as a soup can, one of those chunky, hearty broths that come in round, aluminum pop-tops, and my fingers itched to touch. My small digits literally twitched by my side, and before I could help myself, they reached forwards.

It was almost like a slow-motion movie. From the bottom of my periphery vision, my fingers trailed upwards, sliding past his wound until I had the base of that cock firmly in my grasp, squeezing experimentally. Oh god, he was so thick and solid. Plus, I had my answer now, a cock is scalding to the touch, appetizing and strangely musky, his personal spice filling my nostrils.