Boot Scootin at the Texas Two Step Saloon
Chapter 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cheating, Incest, Mother, Father, Daughter, Group Sex, Swinging, White Couple, Double Penetration, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Petting, Sex Toys, Squirting,

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Pete Santori is in Texas installing a new computer system for a large client. The project is running behind schedule and Pete has been away from home for a month. Feeling a desperate need to hook up with a woman he goes to a country western bar on Thursday night the Texas Two Step. He meets two women, Dottie McCord and her daughter Silk. He goes home with Dottie for a night of hot sex that becomes an exciting weekend.

"Your order will be up in twenty-five minutes Mr. Santori," the room service person said. Just enough time for a shower, he thought.

It had been a tough four weeks. His team had done their job but the client was less diligent than he had expected and they were totally disorganized. He wasn't looking forward to another weekend away from home but it would take at least another three days to wrap up the installation.

The southwestern region had been chosen because of its low volume, a logical market for the shakedown of what was to become the company's new computer system. The last four weeks had been intense. He had been directing the installation of a three branch test of the new CPU22 data system.

It was Thursday evening. His aching neck and shoulders welcomed the jets of hot water that pelted the back of his head and sagged down his back. Soaping with the small complimentary bar he turned beneath the water that was almost too hot. The heat penetrated his skin coaxing muscles on the way to easing. As the water cascaded down his chest and stomach it leached through his dark, curly patch of hair. Feeling the twitch he thought it never fails and gloried in the pleasure of his rising pride on its way to a substantial erection.

Wrapping his fingers around his plumping maleness Pete Santori smoothed the slippery suds out and back on its plumping length. As the pulsing arc filled with blood the wrinkles on his penis smoothed over the muscles that were stretching beneath. His fist, now a faux vagina, moved the loose outer skin of his phallus, emulating the silkiness of an imaginary vagina.

Swaying to the rhythm of his movements tingles filled his sexual presence. "God," he murmured, "It's been too long, I need sex so fucking badly." With his need having grown to such a high level it didn't take long to come. As his knees turned to Jell-O he slammed his back against the shower stall to maintain his balance. "I have to find a woman," he gasped.

After toweling dry he pulled his tight Levis over his bare ass and tucked in his starched white dress shirt. Looking into the mirror he emulated making eye contact with a beautiful woman—one in whom the growing bulge in his crotch might find use.

During the week he had driven past a western bar, the Texas Two Step. It looked like the kind of place where sexy women might go dancing. It was the typical "meat market" night across the nation, Thursday night. Eligible women would already be staking out prospects for a weekend squeeze. Not sure how to be optimistic he was hopeful of finding someone. It would surely beat spending another night with my five fingered friend.

As he walked into the Texas Two Step there was already a crowd, mostly couples. The large, rectangular dance floor was crowded with "boot scooters "stepping to a variety of Country Western tunes. Pete sat down on the last empty stool at the bar and ordered a Stella Artois. Men in Levis, boots and cowboy hats with women in their tight jeans and checkered shirts were gliding around the large floor. The Stella was refreshing him and the music perked him up.

Through the din of merriment he picked up the sound of a woman's sultry laugh. Taking another sip from the half empty Stella he looked into the mirror to pinpoint the source. Two women had just come through the door. Both were dressed in cowboy chic. The younger woman, with long blonde Barbie doll hair, was about the same height as Pete's wife Lydia —about 5'4". She had the face of an angel. Her companion, maybe an inch or so shorter, was older. Her auburn hair was shorter than the younger woman's. It was done in a flip, like the hairdo popularized by Dorothy Hamill, the Olympic ice skating champion of the seventies.

The younger one's shirt was pushed out by her nicely formed breasts, open to the second button which showcased the girl's spectacular cleavage. He could see the outline of her nipples pushing out the thin aqua fabric of her shirt. Looking from the bumps of her nipples to the seam of her jeans he made out the camel toe his eyes always sought. As if someone had flipped a switch Pete's dick pushed against the rough denim fabric of his Levis.

Barbie doll turned to face the woman next to her. She resembled the older woman—maybe her younger sister. As she turned her back Pete's eyes captured the girl's elegant hour glass figure and her tight, shapely ass. I wonder if Levi Strauss ever thought his jeans would look that good on any human being.

His eyes never left the mirror. Ordering another Stella he nibbled the complimentary goldfish and pretzels. Eying Barbie's ass he wondered what it would look like out of the package. Taking a swig of his beer he thought, who's kidding who, their dates will be coming in soon. Maybe I should just go back to the hotel, beat my meat and call it a night.

Lost in his thoughts of self-sacrifice the sounds of females' laughter tickled his ears. Looking at the two women in the mirror he could see that the laughter was theirs. If they weren't looking at him they were certainly looking in his direction. I wonder what they think is so funny about me? Jesus, I should get the hell out of here. What am I trying to prove anyway? I'm not going to make a move on her. And she's certainly not going to pick me up. They kept talking, laughing and looking in his direction. He was getting annoyed.

The older woman whispered something in the younger one's ear. Without smiling Barbie nodded her head. As if in a trance she kept staring directly at Pete. He wondered why. The older woman was massaging the Barbie doll's neck. Suddenly the younger girl bit her lip. Her face flushed and her nostrils flared wildly. Just then her sister patted her on the back, said something that looked like "Ooh," and laughed.

Was I imagining it? He had heard of women who could get themselves off by squeezing their pussy lips together and compressing their clits against the hard seams of their jeans. His wife had said that she had done it herself. He wondered if it had actually happened with Barbie. God, they are both looking at me. The older one actually licked her lips. Both of them laughed.

Jesus, he thought, they're taunting me.

Taking another swig of his beer he looked full on at them in the mirror and winked, laughing disparagingly for feeding himself such silly bullshit. The wink brought a broad smile to the girl's face. She looked at the other. Both laughed. "What the hell," he said as he gathered the courage to get off his stool. "Faint heart never won fair maiden."

As he approached both women smiled and rolled their eyes at one another. "Evenin ladies," he said.

"Howdy," the older one said.

"You two look like you could be related."

Barbie replied, "Kind of," winking. They both giggled.

"Are you sisters?"

"Listen to this charmer," the older one said in a sing-song voice. Batting her eyes she pooh-poohed him with her hand.

"Nope," Barbie said "she's my mom."

"You're kidding me," Pete said. The older woman held her shoulders back showing bounteous breasts that pushed against the fabric of her shirt, her nipples prominently catching the shadows. No fucking way, he thought then said, "You must have gotten married when you were fifteen."

She blushed again, looked at her daughter, grinned then looked expectantly back at Pete.

Holy Christ, he thought, they've gotta be pulling my chain. "I'm Pete."

Obviously in charge the mother said, "My name is Dottie, Pete. Pleased to meet ya. This beauty beside me is my daughter Silk. Ain't she darlin?"

Pete nodded approval of the younger woman and said, "She's the image of her mother."

Dottie blushed and said, "Oh, you charming man." She flicked Pete's shoulder with the backs of her fingers.

With her tongue in her cheek her daughter smiled, obviously proud of how young and pretty her mother looked.

"Silk," Pete murmured in recognition. "Such a soft name," where am I getting this bullshit? Though having never been a player the lines seemed to be coming quite easily. The women were making it easy for him.

"Silk, honey," Dottie said in a husky voice, "this man really knows how to talk with women." Silk didn't say anything, just smiled, her big blue eyes looking like cornflowers.

"What brings you pretty ladies to the Texas Two-step on a Thursday night?"

Dottie smirked, made a growling sound and said, "We're just a pussycat and her kitten Mr. Pete, out looking for a tomcat on the prowl." She fluttered her eyes.

He tried to not act surprised at what she said. The word pussy in pussycat drew his eyes to Silk's which was prominently showing its puffy lips in the seam of her crotch. His gaze drifted to Dottie's which, though forming in the fabric was not quite as pronounced as her daughters.

"So Tomcat," Dottie said with a wink, "are these the kinds of pussies your a prowlin for?"

Having glanced at their crotches out of the corner of his eye when they walked in the door Pete thought he was being cool. But Dottie's comment embarrassed him, causing his cheeks to redden. He felt like a fool. But these girls are definitely looking for action. He looked around the bar to see if there might be another man available, someone to whom he could pawn one or the other off on. At this point he really didn't care which. I just want to get laid.

Our tomcats left this mornin to go Elk huntin out in Wyoming. Those two naughty boys left us women here by our little ole selves." She winked then flashed a smile to Silk, whose eyes glistened and cheeks heightened their pink glow.

Dottie's wink reminded him that Texans weren't able to express themselves without punctuating their words with a wink. He knew though that one of the other guys on his work team would probably jump at the chance to bed one of these gorgeous women. But he really didn't want anybody in the company to know he could be cheating on his wife, something he had never done. Shit, this is the chance of a lifetime. Not really sure that Dottie was just jerking his chain he said, "You really shouldn't tease a lonely man like me Dottie."

"Dottie doesn't tease Mr. Pete. Our tomcats have upped and left us." She smiled and batted her eyes. "Yes sir, they've left two pussycats—in heat no less, he-he-he."

Clearing his throat he said, "When I saw you looking in the mirror and laughing I thought there was something about me that made you laugh."

"There was honey," Dottie said, "but we weren't makin fun of ya." Turning to her daughter she asked Silk, "What did ya say to me baby?"

"I told Mama that I thought you looked like Kurt Russell."

"And what did your Mama say," Dottie asked.

"You said, 'No baby. I think he looks like Michael Douglas, more rugged." She smiled. "Sure is pretty though.'"

"And we laughed," Dottie said, "hopin to attract your attention. How'd we do?" She winked and clucked.

Puffing out his chest Pete said, "Thanks for the kind words Dottie."

"Anyways, Mr. Pete," Dottie asked, "D' ya dance? Or, d' ya just stand around and watch like our tomcats do?

"Actually," he answered, "My wife and I have been going to Arthur Murray for the last three years. I love to dance."

"Let's boot-scoot then," Dottie said. Taking his hand she led him to the floor. About halfway around the floor Dottie said, "You're a smooth dancer, Mr. Pete. I Betcha cain't keep the women from crawlin all over ya."

From the time he had seen Dottie's nipples punching out the fabric of her shirt Pete's cock had remained rock hard. While Dottie and Pete were slow dancing she pushed her crotch against him and said, "Hmm Mr. Pete, you feel like yer goin fer batting practice."

He couldn't believe he was not in a dream. These women were unreal. He knew what she meant about batting practice, his pecker was like a swollen blackjack but he wanted to hear it from her lips. With each step it bounced against his pant leg—he was going commando (no underwear)—the rough denim fabric abrading his glans. His cock was like a swollen blackjack. With each step it raked against his rough pant leg.

Dottie laughed and said, "Men aren't the only ones who look at the crotches of the opposite sex Hun. When I saw you walking over to us I noticed how old Homer there was bulging in your pants. I was thinking gol-lee; that rough fabric must be like sandpaper to that man's tender head, a head I don't hesitate to add; that shows up as prominently as my baby's li'l clam does in her jeans he-he-he-he."

Christ, I've never met a woman like this.

They had just passed Silk who was standing on the outside of the railing, talking with a rugged older man. He looked to be in his seventies. "My baby just cain't keep men, young or old, from sniffing around her," Dottie said. "She's sumpthin ain't she Pete? It doesn't seem to make a difference whether they're boys or old men. It's all the same."

Looking into Dottie's eyes he smiled. Just for the hell of it he winked. Dottie giggled and winked back. On the next pass she grabbed Silk's hand and the three of them, along with the older man, danced in a line dance called "the Electric Slide."

Convinced that there was no mistake in what Dottie wanted Pete stopped in the middle of the floor and said, "Look, we can go over to my hotel and have a drink or two. I know I can get one of the guys from my company to uh, be with Silk." He didn't want to offend Dottie by taking Silk over her. But he thought it might be more comfortable for him to make love to a more experienced woman.

"Well I don't think that'll work sweetie," Dottie answered with a wry smile. "My baby and me are just too well known in this town. It wouldn't be good to be seen in your hotel by someone who might tell our preacher. We'll go out to my house—you and me—where we can be real private. I'd like to get to know ya on my own, kinda 'up close and personal, ' like they say in the Olympics on TV."

He didn't understand how dancing cunt-to-cock at the Texas Two Step was any different from going to his hotel. How is that someone wouldn't tell her preacher about that?

It was like she was reading his mind. "First of all Pete; lots of people dance here. That doesn't mean they're gonna wallow in the bedstead together. If we were on an elevator in the hotel and someone saw us, particularly when our hubbies are gone for the duration; that would certainly get around. And thirdly, I came to town specifically to see if I could find a handsome man just like you to cuddle up to."

Glancing over at Silk who was talking to the older gent he fixed Dottie's eyes with a serious gaze. Emulating John Wayne he said, "And what about Silk."

"See that old man she's talkin with Pete?" He nodded. "Clay Burnett used to be Silk's Biology teacher in high school. He took a real shine to my baby, which I didn't know about at the time, and started teaching her Biology in a very personal way. Silk liked what he was teaching so much that he has been tutoring her off and on ever since. She says the old man never seems to get old in that regard. Actually Pete she came with me tonight to get together with her old teacher and do some deep learnin. I'm the one who's lookin—at least for tonight." She pinched Pete's cheek and shook it.

"Interesting little town you got here Dottie."

"Don't get on your high horse Mr. Pete; this town's no different than yours. We're just more honest about it."

"What about your preacher?"

"Brother Breedlove is here to save our souls. He knows we're all sinners. So is he, judging by the way he spends so much time over to the widow Cartright's house. So if he is so anxious to save me from my sins I figure that I should sin seriously enough to make it a little more worthwhile."

"What about your neighbors? What if they see us?"

"Neighbors? This is Texas honey." Tapping the side of her temple with her finger she said, "Mama is a pretty good thinker city boy. It's dark. My house is very private. It's at the end of a long driveway and there ain't any streetlights. It's takes an effort to see the place from the road."

As she led him off the dance floor Pete covered his bobbing and waggling cock but not well enough for Silk to miss. Staring at his bulge, she glossed her lips with her tongue and smiled. Dottie said, "Baby girl, Mr. Pete's goin over to the house with your mama."

"We'll Mama," Silk said, "I'm gonna be studying some Biology with my old teacher." She looked over at Clay and smiled. "I'll find out in the mornin if Mr. Pete is a worthy Tomcat for kitty, kitty, kitty (she said it in a high voice like she was calling a cat to dinner)." She eyed Pete with a smile and said, "Take good care of my moma's pussycat Mr. Pete, ok?"

Impressed with the exquisite blonde girl's obvious, if not prurient, concern for her mother Pete smiled and nodded thinking, Seems like there's been some kind of psychological damage going on in this family. He eyed the beautiful young woman standing with the older man. Course there's gotta be some reason for these women to need sex in such an obvious way.

Escorting Dottie to the passenger side of the green Ford Taurus rental car Pete opened the door. "Well what do ya know," she said, "a gentleman. That goes along way with me, sir."

As he slid behind the wheel and closed the door Dottie's perfume wafted his nostrils. "Nice scent," he said as he put the key into the ignition.

She was looking at him expectantly. "Give Mama a kiss Pete," sensually offering her lips.

As their lips merged and melted he thought she's just about as sensual a kisser as I've ever been with. Dottie's hand caressed the back of his head. Her lips parted, inviting his tongue to explore the inside. It was slick under her tongue and velvet on top, with slickery ridges on the roof of her mouth. Their nostrils, like snorkels, noisily sucked and exhausted air. Startled by the sound of a horn Pete broke the kiss and saw Silk's Navigator idling in front of them.

"Better buckle up Mama, "she said flashing her million dollar smile then slowly driving out of the parking lot. She turned right, gunned it and sped out of sight.

Dottie's sassy eyes looked into his as she said, "I don't think so, Hun," sliding across the seat and snuggling next to him. As he started the car and put it in gear she snuggled closer putting her hand on his leg. Boldly testing the hardness of his penis between her finger and thumb she murmured, "You feel like quite a man Mr. Pete."

He chuckled and answered, "Just your ordinary horny traveler."

Giggling she asked, "Mind if I take a peek?"

With a nervous laugh he answered, "Would it matter if I said you couldn't?"

"Nope," she responded as her fingers fumbled with his zipper. Goose bumps peppered his forearms. "Feels heavenly," she said, her grasp circling his cock.

Working her wrist she flopped his swollen meat out of his pants. "Oh, baby," she said in her husky voice, "You're a man after this lady's heart." Stroking a couple times she added, "Not to mention her little pussy he-he-he."

Lowering her head Dottie's eyes bored into the package she was holding in her hand. "This is quite a handful city boy."

Having trouble keeping the car straight Pete thought Jesus Christ, I can't believe this!

"Go to the light Hun and turn right," continuing to stroking him. She praised its size and shape, said she loved the large blue vein on top. It was all he could do to keep the car on the road.

"Turn left at the stop sign." He complied and headed down a residential street where the houses were large and widely spaced. "It's the next drive on the left." He turned into a wide driveway of a massive, one story brick house that he couldn't see until he got almost to the end of the driveway. It must have been one hundred fifty feet back from the road.

"Stop in front of the garage door on the far left (there was a double garage door with a single one next to it). I have to open the door." She got out, punched in the entry code and the garage door opened—the bay was empty. Dottie waved him in and he pulled inside and turned off the engine. The garage door came down behind him. His cock was still out but starting to droop.

Dottie got back into the car and slid toward Pete. "I just want to relive an experience from my high school day's darlin, to suck ole Homer in the car." Grasping his deflating organ she said, "Poor Homer seems to have lost interest." She stroked him back to full erection then promptly took his swollen phallus all the way to her soft palate, moaning all the way.

Pulling off she kissed the head of his cock that was leaking precum. "Mm honey you taste mighty sweet." She took him back into her moist, warm mouth and began bobbing, sighing and moaning.

Pete reached down, felt for the lever and pulled up on it, lowering the back of his seat as far as it would go. As Dottie fellated him he bucked up slightly on each up-stroke, fucking her mouth. Jesus he thought when I went out looking I had no idea if I would be able to hook up this way. And to have someone like this sucking me, Jesus!

He was surprised at how he was able to last this long (she had been sucking him for over five minutes, fondling his balls, holding his wet cock against her cheek and caressing it—telling him how beautiful it was—then sucking him some more. I guess it was jerking off in the shower that took the edge off. Lacing his fingers in Dottie's hair he closed his eyes and let the dream continue. I never expected something like this.

It went on for a few more minutes when Dottie, bobbing on him faster, seemed anxious to finish him. Her head moved like a jack hammer, her shrieks muted by his mouth-filling bulk. The hot breath from her nostrils washed his shaft as she pumped her head. Unable to hold out much longer his warning was urgent. "Dottie!" He tried prying her head of his cock.

"Mm-ung," she protested increasing the speed with which his erection pistoned in her mouth.

Giving in Pete bucked into her upstrokes, her gags now high pitched keening which invited him to let go. "GOD Dottie," his first explosion filled her mouth. He sucked in, "sss." The second shot and bent her uvula on the way to the back of her throat. "SHIT," he seethed as his clutching balls propelled another white rope.

"OH FUCK," he yelped as another line added more semen to the pool in her mouth. As a series of spasms brought forth the remaining seed in his sac Dottie kept bobbing and sucking. The pleasure in his glans became painful pleasure which made him say, "Jesus Dottie, I've got to stop. You're killing me."

Pulling her mouth off his wilting cock she slouched back in her seat and tipped back her head, gargled his cum and swallowed it in gulps. "Jesus Pete," she enthused, "that was great. I dearly love cum. I thought you would hold back forever. I don't think I've ever had that much sperm in my mouth from one man EVER."

Looking at her Pete thought she was in a trance. But he could see her fingers pressing on the seam of her Levis and grinding against her clit as she writhed like a captured snake. "YEE HA," she yelped as her orgasm tweaked her body in a long series of spasms.

Her lipstick was gone and her hair was tousled as she slumped serenely against the door of the car. "Peter, Peter, Pumpkin eater, had a wife and couldn't keep her he-he-he. But I bet Peter keeps his wife VERY well." She winked. "I think this is gonna be a wonderful party Peter, Peter." Moving closer she bent over and suckled his semen-slimed cock as if cleaning it. Patting it lovingly she put it back inside his Levis.

Getting out of the car Pete was in a surreal dream. The moon outside shining through the garage window was full, crickets chirped and the stars were brilliant against the black sky. He walked around to Dottie's side of the car, his tender glans being irritated by the coarse fabric of his Levis. As he opened Dottie's door she said, "Thank ya kind sir."

With a devilish gleam in her eyes she murmured, "Come closer Pete and give me your hand." Trying to control his heaving chest he complied. "What do ya say about feeling this ole gal's pussy?" She smiled and giggled as she fumbled with the metal button (no belt), opened it and pulled the zipper down.

Pete reached inside her Levis feeling the smoothness of her soft belly and the thatch below the fabric of her panties. Not only was the panel of Dottie's panties saturated her wetness had wicked almost to their waistband. He pulled the panel aside and parted her labia. His fingers, like a spider's legs wriggled in the mess of slippery, warm goo. Bumping past her hole it seemed to invite two of them inside her sucking pussy. As they fucked her his fingers made slurpy noises and she cooed, "Oh baby, you've got me so wet I think I could paint the bathroom wall out of my pussy te-he-he."

Having never been with a woman who had gotten so wet he wondered if it was true that some women could squirt. "I've never been with a woman as wet as you Dottie."

"I don't know anything about that Mr. Pete. Maybe it's just because I'm a Texas woman. It's oil country down here and we're all used to gushers comin in, he-he-he. "Every comment seemed like she was throwing out comical one-liners.

He felt his cock twitching and thought Christ it usually takes twenty minutes. But this is the first time he had cheated on his wife, an experience that was thrilling him beyond belief. Trying to impress Dottie with his sexual prowess he tried to get her off again. While moving his fingers faster inside her he found the nub of her clit with his thumb, pressing and circling until she froze, spewing a shot of juice on his hand. "Yes Pete. Yes, yes, YES," she yelped.

It felt like she was holding him in a death grip. "My lips feel like they're getting chapped Pete. Would you mind glossing them with your fingers?"

God she's kinky. His fingers came out of her pussy with a slurping, squishy sound. He glossed both lips and she sucked his finger inside her mouth before grabbing his hand and licking her cum and sucking all of his fingers. "I love it Pete, this is so fucking kinky."

They cuddled until she came down from her climax. "Mr. Pete?" she said, "Let's go inside Mr. Pete and get comfortable. We can get to know each other a lot better that way."

Dottie took Pete by the hand and led him toward the door. As they walked into the kitchen she said, "I've got to go clean myself up a little down there Pete, I'm starting to feel a little sticky. Would you like somethin to drink, beer, wine or somethin hard?"

"Do you have Scotch?"

"Sure do darlin." Opening a cupboard door she took down a bottle of Glenlivet. "Water, soda or on the rocks?"

"Rocks." She filled a short glass with ice and poured a generous drink.

"I'll be a few minutes Mr. Pete, just enjoy your Scotch."

About fifteen minutes later he watched Dottie walk through the door. For an older woman she's one hot looking female Pete thought. Then he laughed inwardly. Older, she's probably not even my age.

Noticing that Pete's drink was barely half gone Dottie said, "You've been nursing that drink like you want it to last all night." She chuckled and went on, "My hubby would have already belted down two of them."

Maybe that's her problem he thought. Maybe her husband gets shitfaced too often and can't satisfy her. "I've already had enough to drink Dottie. I would hate to drink too much and have it affect my um, performance." He grinned and blushed.

"Tsk, I wish Lamar would think about that from time to time." Seeing his face tinging red she said, "I haven't seen a man blush for a long time Pete. That is SO suh-weet; it makes me tingle all over. So what have you been thinking about while I've been gone darlin?"

He had been looking around the kitchen, into the dining room and the great room, impressed that Dottie's husband must be worth a lot of money. "Three things Dottie: First I was wondering what you were doing to clean up (she smiled, raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes) and wondered what you would be wearing when you came back."

Her face was newly washed and he knew she had cleaned herself between her legs. She was barefoot wearing a thin pink dressing gown with blue flowers. It came just below her knees. The portion of her legs that were showing were perfectly formed and looked like the legs of a young model. Her attractive, what looked like B cup, breasts appeared perky through the thin fabric of her gown to be. Her nipples, which looked wider than pencil erasers, poked nicely against the fabric. She wasn't wearing lipstick. With full make-up Dottie appeared glamorous, if a little bit coarse. With no make-up she seemed desirable, even a bit vulnerable.

"Second, I walked around in the dining room and great room and noticed what a big and impressive house you have. I guess your hubby is making a pretty fabulous living."

"All that glitters isn't gold sweetie (it seemed to Pete that sweetie was a more endearing term. Darlin was a word that all Texans seemed to use a lot). Lamar was the star quarterback on our high school football team, I was the head cheerleader. We got married young. The money came from Daddy. He was in the wildcattin business and brought in close to three hundred oil wells. Lamar took over the business when Daddy passed. He's not the man that Daddy was. The business has been going downhill ever since but we'll never have to worry about money. What was the third thing?"

"I was wondering about your daughter and her biology teacher."

She cocked her head and asked, "Do you mean that you were thinking about Silk, that you would rather be with her than me? She's sumpthin else Pete, isn't she? I fully understand."

"That couldn't be further than the truth Dottie. Actually I'm more pleased to be with you. You're a beautiful woman, quite desirable. Not only am I more comfortable with you I'm more turned on by you as well." He moved toward her, draped his arms around her waist, pulled her middle against him and kissed her softly with his lips closed."

She laid her face in the hollow of his shoulder and pressed her body more tightly against him. "You're a very nice man Pete, do you know that? Clay Burnett is good for Silk. I'm afraid she would have already sullied her reputation in town were it not for him. He's like a father figure for her, one that Lamar never was nor ever could be. He's also a very gentle and caring lover. He's not the only one for silk. But he's the one who keeps her from going completely wild."

Pete asked, "What about Grover?"

"My, but you are an inquisitive one Pete ... what did you say your last name is?"

"I never said Dottie but its Santori."

"Hmm (she cupped his butt cheeks and pulled him tight snuggling her head more comfortably to his chest) it goes together real nice ... Pete Santori. McCord's our last name. Anyway, I was pregnant with Silk when Lamar and I got married. Daddy insisted that we do. He liked Lamar.

"Grover was Lamar's nephew. His mama ran out on him and he ended up staying at our house—we raised him. He was a couple years older than Silk. I think he and Silk had been getting it on since she was twelve or thirteen. Anyway they ended up getting married right out of high school. When Grover got involved in the business, that turkey seemed to lose interest in Silk.

She started getting wild. That's when Clay Burnett took her under his wing again. Lamar was never much of a daddy to Silk. So the combination of Clay being older and bein an attentive lover has worked out for her in both regards. She still gets a wild streak now and then and goes to play in elsewhere. But Clay never gets in her way. Silk's still pretty much his student but he's always there to look after her."

With a wry smile Dottie said, "Mr. Pete, I didn't invite you out here to be a shrink for this dysfunctional family." Hooking her arm in his she added, "This night's not gonna to last forever. You and I have biology of our own to study on."

As he walked down the long hallway with this delectable woman clinging to his arm he thought, I can't believe it, I went out hoping to get my horns clipped. Now here I am with lady who seems to be trying to give me the real story about Southern hospitality.

The only time Pete Santori had been in a bed chamber as large was when he went on a field trip in high school to the Vanderbilt mansion on the Hudson river just above West Point. On Dottie's walls were several paintings spaced around the walls, all of nudes appearing to have been painted by well-known artists. At the end of the room was an oversized king sized bed. It sat on a raised platform that was eight inches off the floor. Around the bed on the platform was a rose marble railing. On the wall over the bed was a nude painting, almost the width of the bed. It was of an obviously younger Dottie, her long auburn hair draped over her neck just covering her left breast and nipple. Her right breast was in its full glory, her reddish nipple (a little thicker than a pencil eraser) was centered in a delicious, oval shaped areola. Her face was resting on her prayerful hands. Her lower leg was flat on the white sheet she was lying on. Her other leg was cocked, the bottom on her foot elevating it. It was resting on the middle of her calf which was sufficient to clearly show the hairless lobes of her pussy, topped by her auburn bush. It was cut in the shape of a heart. Her electric blue eyes seemed to be looking in the direction of the artist and her lips were formed into a pouting moue.

"I've never seen a more suggestive nude painting," Pete said with an accusing grin.

Standing side-by-side tightly against him just outside the rail, Dottie had taken his right arm and draped it over her shoulder. Her left arm was around his waist, her hand flattened just above his unbelted Levis on his stomach. Her thumb was hooked in his waistband just behind the metal button. In her sexy, husky voice she said, "I didn't want to have my portrait painted. Lamar made me do it."

"But it looks like you were having fun."

"Oh I did Mr. Pete, I made sure of that. That artist—Rene—did things to me that I had never dreamed of before." Her face was filled with awe as she rolled her eyes. "I guess it takes an artist that paints nudes to come up with an idea like tickling a woman's clitty with those tiny artist's brushes, WOOIE!" She pushed the hand that was hooked in Pete's beltline past his pubic hair, grasping his erection in progress. "Feels mighty plump sweetie."

Pete turned her to face him. He looked down and saw her hungry blue eyes staring up at him; she looked like a little girl. "Have you always been so naughty?"

She shrugged. "Since before I started having period's sweetie. I guess I'm just more highly sexed than most females, te-he. Silk is afflicted with the same curse." Dottie was waiting to be kissed.

Her almost childlike face pulled at his heartstrings. As he felt her hands blindly fumbling with his metal button he planted his kiss. Her lips felt different than before, softer, more sensuous, and needier. Her legs were flexing like she had to pee. When she grasped his now full erection Dottie sighed deep inside his throat. Parting her lips with his tongue the battle was on. As their lips fused together and their tongues wrestled she emitted a high whine that could have been saying, "God, I need this so badly."

Understanding her thoughts Pete remembered jerking off in the shower early in the evening, literally crying out, "God, I need sex so fucking bad!"

They writhed together, Dottie now pushing his Levis over his ass. He took over, kicking off his Topsiders and struggling to pull his feet out of his pants. The kiss never stopped. Dottie unbuttoned his shirt, nearly tearing off a couple of the buttons. Now naked (he had gone commando) he opened her gown, hugged her savagely, pushing his hardness through her legs, which slid just beneath the glistening trough which was dropping goo on the top of his shaft.

His naked chest flattened her B cup breasts as four hands clutched and clamped her bare buttocks. Falling on the bed they sank into the mattress that rose with the bounce. "God yes," Dottie screamed, "Fuck me, Fuck me, FUCK me."

Easily penetrating her sloppy twat Pete pumped his swollen sex inside her, fucking hard through two of Dottie's raging orgasms. He pumped steadily for five minutes, stopped for a minute then fucked athletically for another four, resting when his stomach muscles were on fire from the workout. Starting again his stamina lasted another three when the breathless Dottie wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped. "Oh my god Pete I've gotta quit for a minute."

Their sex had been like bedlam: slapping bellies, the sloppy "futching" noises of Pete's cock in Dottie's drenched pussy, gasps and groans, curses and praises. He knew she had two orgasms during the first marathon but didn't know how many more she might have had during the ensuing onslaughts.

Releasing him from the vise of her encircling legs Dottie cried out, "Cum in my pussy baby, do it, Do it, DO IT." She eased her legs giving him space to fuck.

Three more applauding slams triggered Pete's eruption. It was as if his life shot out of his body in three fateful gushers, followed by five clutching spasms that totally drained his prostate, and spewed every drop of semen that his body could create.

The two gasping lovers writhed then lay spread-eagled on the mattress: "Gods," "Christs," and "holy Shits" echoing off the walls. It was five minutes before they were able to collect themselves.

Pete thought he had died until, looking up, he realized that his out-of-body experience was just the reflection of the bed-sized mirror on the ceiling.

He could see that Dottie had pulled the bed covers completely back when she had first gone back to the room. They were lying on what appeared to be a layering of beach towels. She's the wettest god damned woman I've ever known.

Dottie snuggled her naked body next to Pete's, slid one arm under him and squeezed as tight as she could. "Oh Pete, Pete, Pete, I've never been with a man who has ever done it like that before."

Her eyes went to the mirror and captured the image: a muscular, attractive, dark haired man, his tummy still palpitating but now in tiny ins and outs, his hairy muscular legs splayed open and the image of his glistening cock still showing traces of white semen. She kissed his shoulder and stretched to kiss his neck, tracing her finger around one of his nipples then the other. In the mirror she saw his penis plump slightly then roll over, stretching a little more.

"I need a little more time baby," he said.

"How do you do it Pete Santori," she smiled. "Ya know sweetie, the more I say your name the better like it." She chuckled as she watched the reflection of her hand patting his penis, "I like your Peter too he-he. No, cancel that ... LOVE your Peter, Pete Santori."

"Oh God," she said throwing right her leg over Pete's right leg, making it wet with her open clam, "you've got my little pussy tingling like sleigh bells." She slid her left leg under his right leg and captured it between the two of hers, inching her wet pussy in little motions, leaving more and more of her semen-laced wetness on his skin. "Just how do you do stay hard for so long?"

"I've never quite done it like that before Dottie; I usually have a difficult time to keep from cumming too fast. I guess it helped that I jerked off before I went to the Two Step. Then you got me off in the car." He looked up at the mirror. "Look at us," he said. "I've never done it with a mirror on the ceiling before. God you're beautiful."

"Oh Pete."

He pushed himself up on his elbow and looked down into Dottie's face. "I can't believe this is happening. I was so lonely and so horny. Then I met this beautiful and exciting woman. God Dottie, you're such a sensational fucking female. I'm sorry for talking that way but that's how I feel."

"Don't be sorry," she said with a giggle, "I love the word. So how about this, you'll say fuck and I'll say fuck. And as you fuck me I'll fuck you and we'll both say 'fuck' together."

He kissed her soft and accepting lips. "You're a poet my love, huh, huh, huh."

"I don't know about that Pete Santori. But I do know that old Homer is on the rise again. And as long as the subject keeps comin up I wanna explore it to the fullest extent ... that's deep inside me?" She gave him a pouty smile. "How do I love it? Let me count the ways: in my hands, in my mouth, in my wet, wet little pussy, in my ... oh goodness, maybe we don't know each other well enough for that yet..."

For the rest of this story, you need to Log In or Register