The Cowboy

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He was tall, just a tad over 6ft 2inches. He was broad across the shoulders and weighed 105 kg. With a mop of dark hair always falling over his eyes he had just turned 19 years of age.

His darker features were a combination of an ancestral Cherokee infusion in the family tree.

Which was not surprising as the family history harked back to the settler days in the early 1800’s in Colorado and the gradual migration of his own family to his present location in Wyoming.

The family had 600 head of cattle on a large spread of land just south of Drummond along the Mullan Road.

It was a pleasant bit of grassland with Flint Creek and a couple of other creeks running from South to North, providing year round water. Except when they froze in winter. And it felt like it was on the way. The nearby mountains were already showing patches of white in the shadier areas.

Brady Bent dismounted from his horse and led it across the forecourt of the farm house towards the stables. The last mob of cattle had been moved across Flint Creek to better pasture in the South paddock and it had been tiring work.

As he reached the stable he could hear the extension phone ringing.

His Mum and Dad had left yesterday for a family reunion in Butte so he figured this was a courtesy call from them to let him know how the function was progressing. No doubt they would regale him with names of people he had never met, or pass on the regards of his older sister Becky who was at University in Butte.

There weren’t ever many other callers so his approach was casual. “Hi, this is Brent. The folks are away so may I take a message for them?”

The caller sounded a bit flustered but was able to say “Oh Brent, sorry to bother you. This is Sylvia Marshall from over Grassland’s way. I was hoping your Dad was there as I have a cow trapped in a bog and I can’t get the tractor going to pull it out.”

Brent wasn’t the brightest nail in the box but he had an uncanny knack with mechanical devices. He vaguely remembered meeting Mrs Marshall and her daughter Caroline at the funeral of her husband nearly 3 years ago.

“Well ma’am why don’t I come over and see if we can get that tractor going for you? It will take me an hour or so to ride over on my horse because the folks have gone to Butte in the van.”

“Would you mind Brent? It is getting late and colder. Caroline is away and I could do with a hand to get the cow out before the rain arrives. And with your folks away I can fix you some supper.”

“That will be fine Mrs Marshall, my horse is already saddled so I’ll just grab some tools and head over straight away.”

“Thank you Brent, you are a lifesaver if there ever was one.”

He said the perfunctory farewells then went to his toolbox and selected a range of tools he would need. Quickly stuffing them into a saddle bag he apologised to his horse for taking him away from a warm stall and headed out westward to the Marshall farm.

He started at an easy canter but soon broke into a gallop. Harsh flurries of rain and some snow were beginning to fall so he grabbed his all weather coat from behind the saddle and put it on. Crossing the second creek left his jeans soaking wet and as he rode his legs got colder and colder.

However he made good time to the Marshall farm and pulled up inside the stable so that his horse was out of the biting wind. Sylvia Marshall had heard him arrive and went to the stable to greet him.

He could barely remember her from their one and only previous meeting. She was tall with smiling eyes and longish sandy coloured hair falling from below the Stetson she was wearing. He guessed she was mid 40’s in age.

She led him to the shed next to the stable where the tractor was parked. He checked it had petrol which it did, then looked at the outside of the engine for any signs of malfunction. Sure enough there was the problem. The ignition lead had come free from the coil so it took only a few seconds to reconnect it. He switched on the ignition and it fired up immediately.

“OK Mrs Marshall — where is the cow?”

“Brady that was a quick fix but I would prefer if you called me Sylvia. Mrs Marshall is far too formal.”

“Sure ma’am, I mean Sylvia, I’ll try and do that. Now we better go get that cow before it gets dark.”

So they took off; she driving the tractor and he riding his horse to where the cow was stuck in a boggy section of a creek.

He lassoed the cow around the horn poll while she took out a long canvas harness and looped it over the cow’s rear. She attached this to the tractors tow bar and then together they managed to pull the cow out of the muddy bog.

“You go on ahead Sylvia. I will take this cow through the ford to wash some of the mud off and then I will drive it back to the stable for a hosing down.” Brady said.

Within ½ hour he had the cow slowly being guided by his horse to the farm house. He got it into a pen where he used a hose to wash it clean. Then he transferred it to another pen Side escort full of hay where it could recover overnight. He unsaddled his tired horse, gave it a quick rub down and shut it in a warm pen full of hay.

He realised his legs were still wet and his jeans covered in mud as he made his way to the house. It was really blowing hard, with sleet in the air too, and he didn’t fancy the long ride back to his place either.

Sylvia met him at the door and seeing the state of his clothes suggested he take a hot shower while she put his jeans into the washing machine.

He followed her directions to the bathroom and she waited outside while he took off his boots and stripped off his jeans. He handed them to her through the partly open door then turned on the shower and undressed.

He was in the shower for about 5 minutes when Sylvia entered and placed a large pair of jeans on the stool next to his other clothes. She picked up his shorts and said “These could do with a wash too.” Then she turned to look through the steamed up glass door of the shower.

“My, how you have grown Brady since I last saw you. You were a big boy then but you have grown into a very handsome and large man since then.”

He wasn’t aware that his profile was being carefully studied, nor did he feel any embarrassment. He had no experience of male/female relationships, outside of the natural coupling of farm animals. His parents were cordial to each other in an almost platonic way and it had been fairly natural with his sister to be seen in various degrees of nakedness as they grew up.

In effect Brady was almost totally sexually ignorant. His manner around older women had always been deferential without any sexual overtones. So Sylvia’s presence in the bathroom created no concern. He switched off the shower, stepped out and grabbed a handy towel to start drying himself.

Sylvia, on the other hand was treated to a vision of manhood that she could understand but hardly comprehend. This strong, muscular body she was looking at was taut and trim. His buttocks were narrow and hard from riding so much, the stomach was flat with ridges of abdominal muscle. And the glimpse of his manhood below a curly haired pubic thatch was circumcised, long and thick, even in repose.

Her heart began to flutter and long, almost forgotten , feelings began to stir in her loins and stomach. She excused herself muttering something about supper being nearly ready and left hurriedly. Brady had a momentary inkling that something unusual had happened, but it was beyond his knowledge, so he calmly got dressed and entered the combined kitchen/dining area.

“These jeans are a good fit” he said, turning around to show Sylvia. “They belonged to my husband.” she replied calmly. “He was about your size until his sickness took hold and they became too big for him. You can keep them because no-one around here could ever wear them.”

“Thank you, they will be a good replacement for those old ones in the washer. These also have a lining inside the legs that will keep out the cold.” he stated.

Sylvia motioned him to take a seat and brought out a tureen of pea and ham soup. She ladled a healthy amount into his bowl and they began to eat.

This was followed by pan fried eye fillet steaks with potatoes, beans and peas. Then came dessert followed by a jug of strong coffee.

They had talked about farming in general, the forthcoming winter and then Sylvia said

“My daughter Caroline is about your age. It would be nice if she and your sister got to meet and become friends. These large farms can become lonely places for the young.”

“I guess, said Brady, “but there is so much work to be done there is no time to get lonely.”

‘Have you got a girlfriend Brady?” asked Sylvia a little bit slyly.

“No ma’am, I never had time to go to town or the city, except for school. All my school friends tended to be male because we were more involved with sport than lessons.” he said quite simply.

“Didn’t you have a partner at the school dances?” she pried.

“Most of the time I danced with my sister. It is easier with someone you know when you make mistakes.” he laughed.

“Oh so you can dance then?” she enquired.

“Not really. I’m OK with line and barn dancing because you dance mostly on your own. I have trouble with the close-up stuff because I am too big and clumsy — my feet always get in the way.” was his naive reply.

“I have a gramophone here with some nice slow music. Maybe you might let me teach you the basic steps if you would like?” Sylvia said as her heart missed a beat waiting for his reply.

Just at that moment it began to pour with rain, lashing against the house with a fury. They looked at each other in surprise and got up out of their chairs to look out of the window. It was almost a torrential downpour and they could see very little except a grey and white curtain of rain illuminated by the porch light. It was coming in horizontal under the porch Side escort bayan roof and beating against the window they were standing at.

“Dang, these new jeans are going to get wet on the way home.” said Brady.

“There is no way you or your horse are going out in that weather tonight, said Sylvia quite sternly. “There are plenty of spare beds here and I wouldn’t want your parents to think I was so uncharitable as to make you go out in that.”

“Well I guess it would be nicer here in the warmth, and maybe if I helped with the dishes, you might teach me those dance steps after all.” was his soft reply.

They did the dishes quickly, each with their own private thoughts about what was to follow. Sylvia set up the record player with a slow Vienna waltz and then beckoned Brady to come and stand in front of her.

She had taken off her heavy cardigan because the wood fire was now throwing out a lot of warmth.

Brady looked in astonishment. She was wearing a thin man’s shirt with most of the top buttons undone and he could see the top of a silky bra above which her breasts bulged upwards.

“Now Brady, said Sylvia not wanting to lose the moment, take me in your arms like so.” She took his right arm and pulled him in to her and placed it on her shapely hip. Holding his left hand with her right hand she raised it to shoulder height and then stepped in so that their bodies touched. Then she put her left hand at the base of his neck on his shoulder.

She took a deep breath before saying “Step forward with your left foot, then with your right, then again with your left but turned outward from your body — in time with the beat of the music.” So they began to practice. Brady soon got the rhythm right and the feel of her body against his was both reassuring and comfortable, size wise they fit well together.

Sylvia then proceeded to show him other steps in the dance.

By the time they changed to the second record Brady was doing very well.

“Now the way they do it professionally is that we stand slightly sideways from each other. As we step our leading leg goes between the partners legs. We also need to be holding each other closely to maintain balance. Would you like to give that a try?” she asked quietly.

“Sure, that should be easy.” said Brady. So taking the proper stance they began again but Brady kept misjudging the distance and his quad muscles kept bumping Sylvia in the groin. Her body responded as the ‘feelings’ began again. She decided to reciprocate and allowed his groin to bump into her thigh by delaying her backward step.

From her point of view this had the desired effect as the bulge between his legs began to grow. Her hopes were short lived however as he soon became conscious of the effect on his manhood and pulled away from the tight embrace.

“What is the matter Brady?” she asked solicitously.

In his innocence Brady replied “All this bumping has made my pecker grow and I am feeling strange.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It does a bit because without shorts underneath it is pressing against the fly of the jeans.” he answered truthfully.

Suddenly Sylvia realised her artful scheme might have a chance of success.

“Why not unzip your fly and let your pecker become free?” she daringly asked, hoping he would not feel too ashamed in front of her.

So he unzipped his fly and his cock dropped out. It was about half hard and already close to 6 inches long. Sylvia stood in awe and watched as it grew longer, thicker and harder to be almost 8 inches in length.

“Oh my goodness, what a gorgeous pecker.” she said and reached out her hand towards it.

“Where does it hurt? Let me kiss it better for you.”

And before Brady could say a word she took it in the palm of her hand and started to kiss along its length.

“I don’t think you should be doing that Mrs Marshall.” Brady stuttered. “You are creating even more strange feelings that I don’t know how to control.”

“Brady my dear I don’t want you to control them, I want you to let them go. And I want to show you how this thing works and why it makes women so happy when it is used properly.” “Come with me .”

She led him into the master bedroom with its big double bed. Brady followed but not sure what was going on. He also felt strange with his erect manhood sticking out from his jeans.

Sylvia stopped, knelt down and pulled his jeans down around his feet. “We won’t be needing those for a while.” she said. “Take off your shirt dear while I get these duds off.”

Sylvia faced him fully as she unbuttoned the shirt and took it off, revealing a sheer bra through which her aureoles and nipples were very obvious.

Brent had never seen a female breast before and when she took off her bra and her breasts bounced a little bit he put out his hand to feel them. Sylvia guided his hand to her nipple and covering his hand with hers began a soft circular motion over the nipple. He was astonished to feel it growing Escort side harder and longer under the palm of his hand.

Sylvia disengaged her hand and pulled of her slacks, revealing matching panties that barely covered her thick sandy bush of pubic hair. Brady thought she must have peed herself because they were quite wet in the crutch area.

She peeled them off to stand stark naked in front of him.

He saw a quite slender but nicely rounded body. The breasts were full and pushed away from the rib cage like two mountain peaks. Her hips were nice and sloped on each side of a slightly rounded tummy.

He couldn’t understand why his pecker was now another inch longer and dribbling at the end through his pee hole.

“Sylvia, he almost cried, what is happening to me?”

“Sweetheart you are about to become a man. Your body is reacting naturally to the opposite sex. Just like the cows and bulls, you are going to mate with me. Not to produce babies but simply for the joy of it, because as humans we can do this just for pleasure. There is no sin; it is a natural inbuilt desire in our genes. And I have to say that after 17 years without it I desire you inside me like you could never believe.” She had said what she wanted to say, now she wanted to make it happen.

“Is this what they call sex Sylvia?” he asked.

“Yes it is my darling man and I want your sex, (pointing at his cock), inside my sex.” as she opened her legs and pulled apart her labia lips to let him see her full womanhood.

He walked around the bed to her side, pushed her face down on the bed and rammed his 9 inch cock into her wet pussy.

She grunted with pain as he entered her and gasped as his length hit the end wall of her vagina.

He just stood there like that for a few moments then said “Why is nothing happening?”

“Although you are built like a bull you need to push it in and out to feel what a bull feels.” came a muffled reply from her face buried in the duvet.

So Brady began to fuck her like a bull. No finesse, just straight hard thrusting. Within minutes he could feel something rushing up the inside of his cock and spurting out of the end. He could also feel Sylvia’s vagina walls contracting and rippling along the length of his cock — but he had no idea why.

Thus he lost his virginity.

Sylvia was quite happy where she was, contracting over this immense girth of manhood deeply imbedded within her. She rode the climax quietly; enjoying once again the intimacy, her feelings of fulfilment and the joy of having a male member within her holiest of sanctuaries. At 43 years of age she had never been fucked like a cow before and that made her giggle.

“What’s so funny.” Brady asked.

“It would take a lifetime to tell you, but instead I am going to teach you so that you will know in future how to pleasure a woman properly. Let me get up and I will show you what you might be capable of.”

Brent pulled himself out of her slowly, almost afraid there would be something wrong with it at the other end. All he found was that it was covered with a slightly sticky liquid and smelled sort of musty.

He realised that his bladder was full and he needed a toilet. Sylvia pointed him to her private en-suite.

When he returned Sylvia was lying on the sheets with the covers pulled aside. As he approached she leant over and putting her hands on his behind, pulled him to her face.

His penis was almost back to normal size. Taking it in one hand she lowered her head and took him into her mouth. Her other hand caressed under his ball sack and within seconds he was hard again.

“Lordy, ma’am but that sure feels good and you’ve made my pecker hard again.” he said.

She nodded as she proceeded to suck on as much of his cock as she could get into her mouth. After a while her jaw started to ache. ‘You are out of practice girl’ she said to herself.

She took him out of her mouth then rolled over so he could get into the bed. As he lay down on his back, absolutely unsure of his part in whatever was going to happen next, Sylvia said

“Brent I want you make believe you are a baby and suckle my breasts.”

He half rolled over and took a nipple in his mouth and started to suck on it. Then some hidden instinct made him take one hand and fondle her breast and instead of sucking he began to tease the nipple with his tongue.

Sylvia had hold of her favourite toy again and was masturbating it like there was no tomorrow. Then she suddenly rolled on top of Brent, moved into a squatting position over his penis and lowered herself onto it.

It seemed to take an age to reach her cervix and she could feel the sides of her vagina expanding to take its girth. She lowered a breast to his mouth and began a slow sensuous glide up and down his 9 inches.

As her excitement mounted inside she fingered her clit when suddenly Brent’s hand covered hers. She let her hand slide away and his stayed, fingering her clit for her. Being done by someone else always heightens the sensations and she could feel her orgasm mounting.

She began to ride harder and faster and was overjoyed to feel Brent thrusting upward as she came down onto his hips.

Within a very short time she was gasping, her

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