Release Date: 08/2009
Publisher: Cleis Press
Publisher Link: http://www.cleispress.com/book_page.php?book_id=321
Amazon: Lesbian Cowboys: Erotic Adventures
Amazon Kindle: Lesbian Cowboys: Erotic Adventures
Blurb: With stories that are edgy as shiny spurs and tender as broken-in leather, fifteen first-rate writers share their take on cowboys—the iconic fantasy, the calling, and the attitude that has nothing to do with gender. Whether in the Old West or the Australian outback, New England or the Great Plains, the lesbian cowboys in these stories work hard, ride hard, and play hard in the saddle and in bed. Contributors Radclyffe and Jove Belle depict the rough and tumble world of female rodeo riders, while Cheyenne Blue describes a charged encounter between a renegade cattle driver and national park ranger, and Delilah Devlin writes about a hired hand who may be a woman, but is more than a match for any man. Lesbian Cowboys is sexy, steamy, and crackling with erotic energy.
From Pulling by Sacchi Green
Cal and sixteen-year-old Ethan hadn’t been hard to locate last night when I cruised the fairgrounds. Both white-blond heads, streaked hot pink and green and purple by the midway lights, loomed above the crowd. I hung back for a while near the balloon-dart booth to get an idea of what they were up to, hardly able to see the carnie huckster through the wall of testosterone-pumping adolescents between us. I could hear her slick come-on, though, and the sly, seductive tone of her voice sent hot prickles across my skin. Just food for fantasy, of course, but damn, she was good.
“C’mon folks, I’ll rack ‘em up again. See how Cal, here, got one right in there? Popped that cherry good? Here y’go, show us what y’got.” I caught just enough movement to know she was tossing her long dark hair and twitching her hips for emphasis. “Stick that ol’ dart right in! Ri-i-i-ght in there!”
“Right in where?” asked a wise guy. “Show me again!”
“If you can’t find the spot on your own, hot stuff,” she shot back, “maybe you better go home and practice some more on your favorite sheep.”
Whoa. Considering the concentrated beer fumes in the area, she could be asking for trouble. I moved closer and squeezed in next to Cal just as the guy hurled his three darts too fast to be aiming much, and one balloon popped with a satisfying crack.
“There y’go, I knew you could hit the spot,” she purred. “Prize from the first row, or wanna try again and get an upgrade?”
“How many hits to go all the way?” His leer was unmistakable.
“Sorry, Bud, my ass isn’t sittin’ up on the prize shelf tonight.” She tossed him a big purple plush snake and moved away. “Who’s next?” Her sultry gaze lit right on me, and maybe she figured it was safer not to pitch to another guy right then.
“How about you, honey? I always like to see a lady show the guys how it’s done.” She put one foot up on the low barrier across the front of the booth, leaned an elbow on a sleek, black-stockinged knee and rested her chin on her hand. The top three buttons of her red satin shirt were unbuttoned, giving me a prime view of peach-tinted flesh barely held in check by a lacy black bra. Her mini-skirt was hitched up so high I caught a glimpse of matching garters and tender thighs. “How about it, darlin’?”
She sure as hell knows just how it’s done! Question is, does she mean anything by it?
“Nobody here I’d call a lady,” I said, looking her straight in the eye, “but I’ll have a go at it anyway.” I shrugged off my denim jacket and handed it to Cal, shoving him back a bit to give me room. All I wore underneath was an old white tank top smelling of sweat and horses. She handed me three darts, took my money, leaned a little farther forward, and tucked the bills loosely into her cleavage. The clueless males watching didn’t seem to have any doubt that her show was for their benefit.
I raised my arm to pitch the first dart. The gaze of half the guys switched to the movement of my heavy tits—but her gaze was all that counted. And it was all I’d hoped for.
My first throw hit a red balloon, just making it bob sideways. “A real teaser, huh?” Her tone was impersonal, but a sidelong glance at my face and then my big hand hinted at more. I threw again, with a better idea of the angle required, and this time the balloon snapped and shriveled into a limp dangle of rubber. My inner tension built. When I popped the next one, too, the pressure exploding out of it seemed to pump me up right where it mattered most.
“Way to go, girl! Second shelf prize,” she said. “What’ll it be?”
I stifled the impulse to ask if she was still so sure her ass wasn’t on that shelf. “Go on to the next guy and let me think on it a minute, okay?” I said, and she nodded, so I got down to business with my brothers. Not that I wasn’t thinking on my prize real hard.
“You two go on ahead,” I muttered, hauling them away. “We have to get going early tomorrow morning. Tell you what, order us all some apple crisp with ice cream down the way at that church booth, and I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
“Rather have some fried dough,” Cal grumbled.
“Okay, whatever, anything but those damned fried onion sunburst deals!”
Cal took the money I passed him, still looking longingly back at the balloon game. Ethan looked, too, but more shyly. “Her name’s Carla,” Cal said. “From Boston.” As if her accent, its nasal edge a notch beyond our own upcountry twang, hadn’t been a give-away. “Isn’t she hot? I told her about the horse pull tomorrow, and she said she likes to watch the big ones.”
“I’ll bet she does,” I said. “Move your butts along now.” And they went. Every time they do what I say I figure it may be the last, but this time I was paying them well to help with the team, so they were less inclined to argue.
When I turned back, a girl who’d been looking for her boyfriend was making a scene at the other end of the booth. Under cover of the distraction Carla leaned close to me. “Your brothers?” she asked, jerking her head toward Cal and Ethan’s retreating asses.
“’Fraid so,” I said. “You got a thing for big dumb farm boys?”
She shrugged, clearly aware that the movement made her shirt gape farther open, and that I was enjoying the view. “Not when there’s a big farm girl around to distract me.”
“You forgot the dumb part.”
Carla looked me over slowly and thoroughly, her gaze moving down over my substantial midriff to rest on the crotch of my faded jeans.
“I’m not noticing any dumb parts,” she drawled.