The Last Wish Blues - Cover

The Last Wish Blues

Copyright© 2007 by Lubrican

Chapter 10

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 10 - Brenda was offered one last wish, before the tumor in her head killed her - the chance to do something fun, and to forget her disease, if only for a few days. She made her choice, and it seemed reasonable. But wishes have a way of changing, and, when hers changed, it also changed what was left of her life forever.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Tear Jerker   First   Masturbation   Petting   Pregnancy   Slow  

They had fourteen head when Bob changed direction and began herding the cattle on a new vector. Brenda was tired by now. She was amazed at how tiring it was just to ride a horse all day ... at least when you had to stay in the saddle as the horse jumped this way and that, breaking into a trot without warning and stopping suddenly.

Still, she’d had a good time, and it was the kind of tired she didn’t mind. She felt like she’d actually done something worthwhile that day. The fun part was watching the young steers, who played at facing down the horse, pawing the ground and snorting, daring the horse to come any closer. She decided they were all teddy bears, because the horse always called their bluff, and they always skittered around and ran away when that happened. They looked so fierce in their spraddle-legged stance, head lowered, as if they had horns. The next second they were dashing away in panic, kicking up their rear heels, sometimes bawling, as if for their mother. The horses paid them no mind whatsoever, as long as they went where they were supposed to go.

All the movement in the saddle had helped loosen her up, instead of making her sore. In work like this, your butt didn’t hit the saddle, over and over again, in the same place. The pain she’d felt earlier was still mostly absent, though there was a generalized ache about her lower body.

When another line shack came into view - this one with a small corral beside it - she heaved a sigh of relief. She didn’t have to be a professional cowgirl to know that this was the end of the trail for that particular day.

She looked around hopefully for a pond, but didn’t see one. She saw the windmill that stood next to the corral, but didn’t think much about that. Bob rode ahead and opened the gate to the corral without even getting off his horse, and, once again, Brenda marveled at his skill. Then he rode wide, around their small herd, as Dammit and she kept the herd moving toward the corral.

She was worried about what to do now. The gate was small, and the cattle were spread out, ambling along. They’d gotten more and more tame as the day went on, or at least less likely to dash off in an attempted escape. If they did that now, she wouldn’t know what to do.

To her chagrin, they marched straight for the corral as if someone had told them “Okay, kids, this is where you’re staying tonight ... hup, hup ... move on in there ... thaaaats good.” Bob was suddenly there, leaning over again and walking Ranger, the end of the gate in his hand as he swung it closed. The cattle began milling around, and lowing, as if they had just realized they were now captives, and were nervous about it. Before she got to the shack and began to dismount, though, they all had lowered heads, cropping at the grass in the corral.

“You do pretty good work,” said Bob, as he eased off his horse.

“Thanks,” she said tiredly. “This is a lot harder than I would have thought.”

“What are you talking about?” He grinned. “They didn’t give us much trouble at all. All you did was sit on a horse all day.” His grin faded. “How’s your ... um...”

“My butt?” she finished for him. “My butt is just fine, mister.”

“Well, I’m relieved to hear it,” he said. “You ready for a nice cool dip?”

She perked up. “You bet I am!” she said. She looked around. “Where?”

“Stock tank,” he said. “I’ll get the windmill going and pump us a bathtub full.”

It was then she saw the big gray metal tank, maybe eight feet across and two or three feet high. It was half in, and half out of the corral, and cows were already standing by it, their noses poked inside, looking for the water that wasn’t in it yet. They complained when they found it dry. Bob went to the base of the windmill and pulled a big lever. With a screech of dry metal, the head of the windmill turned slightly and began to slowly revolve. As it did, the lever on the pump next to Bob began to slowly rise and fall, and clear water first dribbled, and then poured out of the outlet as the big fan up high began to move faster.

“By the time we’re done with supper, it should be deep enough to cool off in,” he said, dusting off his hands.

“I’m, cooking tonight,” she announced firmly.

“Yes Ma’am!” He grinned.


She took most of the rest of their freeze dried rations, and mixed it with cans of things she found in the shack to make up a stew, of sorts. She found bottles of spices and added pinches of that to the mix. She was sweating from the heat of the stove. This line shack had bunk beds in it, a set on each side of the stove.

“It’s going to be too hot to sleep in here tonight,” she observed.

“We’re still up fairly high,” he said. “It can still get nippy at night, this time of year.”

“We could still sleep outside,” she said. “We have sleeping bags.”

“On the cold, hard ground?” He bent over backwards, like his back ached. “With bears? And wolves? All drawn to our poor cattle?”

She didn’t know if he was kidding or not. His face was straight and his voice was the only thing that suggested he was teasing her.

“Of course,” he went on, “If we slept in the same sleeping bag ... then I guess I could protect you from the varmints.”

She giggled then. “There aren’t really any varmints ... are there? Tell the truth!”

“Well...” he hedged, “just because I’ve never seen any around here doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“The only protection I need,” she said firmly, “is from you!”

“Now don’t be that way, little darlin’,” he whined. “I was doing just fine until you subverted me and drew me into your web, and unleashed all sorts of dangerous passions.” He stuck his lower lip out and pouted. He looked ridiculous, and she had to laugh.

“Last night I was ‘your little filly’, and tonight I’m your ‘little darlin’,” she said. “What will I be tomorrow night?”

He looked truly sad then. “Tomorrow night you’ll be your parents’ daughter, and I won’t get a goodnight kiss.”

Brenda, for the first time in a long time, felt a chill run down her spine as she remembered what she’d be going back to. This trip really had taken her mind off of the fact that, as soon as a month from now, if the doctors were right, she’d be in a bed somewhere, maybe delirious, in the ugly process of dying from cancer.

“I’ll give you two tonight,” she said softly, almost to herself.

“Hey,” he said, his voice firming. “I didn’t mean to bring you down. That smells delicious,” he said, changing the subject. “When’s it going to be done? I’m famished.”

They ate in silence, the mood still somber. Brenda felt listless ... uninterested, suddenly, in having to go through the next few weeks. She had been upbeat for a long time, treating each new challenge, and each new experience as a test that she needed to pass, to make the most of what she had left. Now, it already seemed over. This had been a dream, and she was going to have to wake up.

She didn’t want to wake up.


Bob was sober too, because he could see the pain on her face. She was too young to have lines of worry, but her eyes told the story. They were eyes that had seen too much pain, and too much horror for a girl so young. He still felt the pain of his own loss - would always feel that on some level - and knew hers was just as agonizing.

“Finish up,” he said, noting that she had just sat there for five minutes without eating. “We still have a half day’s ride ahead of us tomorrow, and I want you in tip-top shape when we get back.”

“Yeah ... right,” she said.

He put his bowl down and took hers from her. He pulled her up and put his hands around her waist, pulling her to him.

“Look, I know I can’t change anything ... can’t make it all go away. I would, if I could, but we both know better than that. It’s going to happen.” She lifted her face and there were tears in her eyes. He stared into them and went on. “But you don’t have to let it happen before it’s really here. You’ve got some time left. Don’t let the disease take that from you without fighting it.”

“I know,” she said miserably.

“You’d feel better if you got clean,” he said, kissing her nose.

“You just want to see me naked again,” she said, wiping her nose with one hand.

“Guilty, as charged,” he said, smiling.

“Oh, all right!” she said, pushing him away. “If you’re going to badger me all night, let’s get this over with!”

Her fingers went to her shirt buttons and she undid them rapidly. She pulled her shirt apart, exposing her breasts.

“Is this what you’re so anxious to see?” She thrust them out at him, arching her back.

“You’re half way there,” he said encouragingly.

“I suppose you’re going to ravish me,” she said, undoing her jeans and pushing them down.

“That depends,” he said.

She stopped and stood up, her pants around her knees.

“What do you mean?” she asked indignantly. “On what?”

“As I recall, you were a mite sore, earlier in the day,” he said. “I’m not the sort of man who wants to cause my little darlin’ any pain.”

“I’ll let you know if you’re causing me any pain,” she said firmly. “If you think you’re going to get me all naked and horny, and then do nothing about it ... well ... you’d better not be trifling with my emotions!”

“Trifling?” asked Bob, trying not to smile.

“That’s what my Aunt Sophie would call it,” she said.

She bent over and stepped out of her jeans, to stand up naked.

“You’ve got an awful lot of clothes on, mister cowboy,” she observed.

“Who’s badgering who, here?” he asked, trying to look miffed.

“Get naked!” she ordered.

“Oooooo,” he simpered. “You’re so forceful!”

“If you don’t get naked pretty damn quick, you’re going to wish a bear mauled you,” she threatened, stepping closer.

In answer, he reached out and tweaked a nipple. Both of them jumped back and he dodged behind the stove as she came for him. He tried to keep the stove between them as he unbuttoned his own shirt and tossed it on a bunk. She darted, this way and that, and, because he was watching her breasts bounce and sway, he missed seeing the wood box and went sprawling. She was on him instantly, tearing at his belt. He went limp and let her have her way, lifting his hips while she dragged his jeans down. She left them at his knees and tore at his jockeys, to expose his erection. When it came into view, she sat back on her haunches.

“I’ll always be amazed that I can do that to a man,” she sighed.

Bob grinned. “And I’ll always be amazed that a woman will leave herself open for this.” He reached out and tweaked her nipple again.

He tried to roll away from her, but his jeans got in the way and he ended up on his hands and knees. She landed on his back, like he was a horse and yelled “Giddyap!“ Her hand came down to slap his right butt cheek hard enough to leave a hand print.

Then she ended up sprawling as he stood on his knees, his hand going to his injury.

Hey!“ he complained. “I’m the adult here! If anybody’s going to get a spanking, it’s going to be the teenager in the room!”

She shrieked and dashed for the door, making it because he was still unable to move his jeans-restricted legs. By the time he got them off, and went out the door after her, she was standing by the stock tank, peering into it. There was about two feet of water in it, and she was trying to figure out how to climb in. The lip of the tank was a little higher than her legs were long. Bob started running and vaulted the side of the tank, turning to land on his back. He splashed water everywhere.

Cold water.

The water was a uniform 55 degrees when it came out of the pump from the water table a hundred or more feet down. That doesn’t sound cold, until you immerse your body in it. Cold water from the average tap is about the same temperature. Just think of the last time the hot water cut out on you while you were in the shower.

Brenda was covered with the wave that splashed up, and over the lip of the tank, and she froze, her mouth wide open. It wasn’t as cold as the water at the waterfall, but her body couldn’t really tell the difference.

Then Bob was there, leaning against the edge of the tank, his hands around her waist, and she felt herself lifted as if she weighed hardly anything. She screeched as she realized he was going to throw her in the water, and then took in a hasty breath when she realized it was inevitable.

It took care of her hot, sweaty feeling instantly.

There was an impromptu wrestling match immediately. Each one tried to spank the other, but the water kept much from happening. Quite suddenly they were in each other’s arms, flesh pressed to flesh, trading body heat.

“It’s really cold!“ she said into his chest.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said.

“I don’t k-k-know about that,” she said, her teeth chattering.

“Let me take your mind off of it,” he said.

He pushed her against the side of the tank, and told her to hold on with her hands. She did so as he lifted her body, laying her out in the water and got between her legs. She spread them for him without thinking. His hands went to her buttocks and he lifted, until she had to hold on to the edge of the tank to keep from sinking. Sinking into the water himself, he shoved his face into her pussy and began to ... take her mind off the water.

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