More fucking ensues. She’s ecstatic to make it official. I respond that I control her forever. I’m putting my children into her. Her body is a field which I plow how and when I want, and she must accept it. I will swim in her sexual fluids for the rest of my life. My genetic material and hormones will totally invade her, seeping right into her brain. I spit in her mouth and order her not to leave my fucking house anymore unless I say so, and she can forget about returning to live in the city, either. Her arms are twisted together with mine as I also grab the metal railing of the bed once more. The slamming of our hips is loud and hard. She groans and quivers in excitement while I thrust harder until we both come. My masculine grunting is accompanied by the sweet music of her moans and deep exhalations. As we calm down, she strokes my face and whispers how much she adores me.
I have her in my dreams that night, showing her more of the levels of reality I’m accessing, inviting her to enter them with me. I wish I could remember all of them.
II.
A basic straw cowboy hat, a patterned western shirt, and another pair of jeans. I don’t have any cowboy boots I fit into properly, since my dad’s feet were slightly smaller than mine and I never bought my own, but my combats still hold up the look nicely.
She, of course, looks great. She works magic with clips to raise her hair up impressively. Combining her accessories with another floral blouse and a denim skirt with black leather high-heeled sandals, she’s incredible. I’m glad this town is mostly old traveling retirees and the occasional veteran, because otherwise I might be outcompeted, and I’m not here for that. Well, if she does see some hot cowboy, I’ll make her role-play as him in bed while I pound her out. The rest of them can just look at this classy lady and weep.
The past couple of days are a blur of cooking, reading, conversation, walks, exploring around town, sex, and all that. Now it’s time to hit up the concert. The country western tour, featuring a bunch of fiddlers, country-rock ensembles, and hooting and hollering line dance routines, has come to town. I’m not normally into this lifestyle, but I was raised around it, and I have to admit that it feels like home. It impresses her, and that’s what matters.
The road is illuminated by that sunset lighting up the sky just the way I love it. I thought about it all the time in the city and on the coast, and now we’re in it together. I tell her this, and she kisses my hand. If she can make a gay man’s heart ache like this, I’m keeping her.
The venue is already surrounded by every manner of vehicle. I think some tour buses for the artists are nearby. Then you have some busted Toyota sedans, gleaming Fords, and even a bunch of dirt quads. We park far out and are greeted by someone hollering over on the other side of the impromptu parking lot. Still, the atmosphere is friendly. I open her door and help her out of the truck.
The music grows louder as we approach. I already recognize one of the veterans who lives in my area, so I wave at him. He shakes her hand with a friendly twinkle in his eye. His boyfriend is accompanying him and he greets her, too. Both look gobsmacked by her, and when she walks a bit ahead of us, they look at me and then at her with the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen. Almost every gay dude I’ve dealt with has loved it when one of us experiences a woman, let alone one so captivating.
I show our tickets on my phone at the entrance, and we’re in. The older lady who gives us our wristbands says we both look cute enough to eat up with a spoon.
Three stages are going. I know some of the acts and start listing them out to her. There’s a big emphasis on fiddles and line dancing, but plenty of steel guitar is being played, and some acoustic guitarists are in the mix, too. There are also lesser-known opening acts. She’s seemingly amazed at this being where I come from, especially since I hide it so well. I’m a chameleon that way.
Beer is being served, but I buy us some water. I recognize two other people I went to school with. More introductions happen. She has her arm on my back and shakes everyone’s hands, charming them with her beauty as she does with me. I rest my hand in the middle of her back as everyone is still chatting. This feels awesome.
The announcer calls out that it’s time to assemble in front of the main stage, so we all join the rest of the huge crowd to arrange ourselves in position. I tell her to follow my lead and observe. And that half of these people are tipsy anyway. The crowd is a great mix, with only the occasional hottie, and she seems so out of her element she might not even be paying attention to them, anyway. Lots of Stetson hats stick out. Huge guts. Belt buckles the size of dinner plates. Smartphones are recording from the sidelines. This has suddenly turned into one of the largest line dances anyone has seen on this tour.
The first number is something I remember from my school days. You do a shuffle, a back step, body-roll to the side, then another shuffle and stomp. It takes some of the participants a few tries. Parts of the line descend into chaos as people sway backwards or forwards into the row ahead of them, but everyone starts understanding the rhythm. She’s handling herself perfectly, mostly watching me and a more experienced woman in front of her, while I’m near an older guy in an American Legion hat and a mechanic’s shirt who’s cutting a rug very well. Her taste in men differs from mine, so I see a nice share of the blue collar/good ole boy types that are right up my alley. But the interest is mild at best, considering she’s with me.
The song comes to an end, and we all cheer. There’s more hollering. A bunch of new song requests are being shouted from the crowd. She looks at me while laughing and grimacing, and I wink at her. The band decides on the most popular one, and the lead singer shouts out a sequence of dance commands which the crowd understands quickly. A flurry of shuffles follows, as this particular song is about a girl in blue jeans in a guy’s truck (the previous piece was about taking a girl noodling). I had a cute girl in my truck today, as did nearly half the attendees here. Country music is great.
The enjoyable hoedown proceeds for the rest of the evening. We opt to move on and watch many other talented acts. I make sure to emphasize all of the awesome women artists so she won’t see those hunky cowboys up on stage. I catch glimpses of them myself, thinking about those hard, solid bodies they have from doing all that physical labor instead of being in the gym. It’s still a good sex talk topic as well.
Over the next few days, we have even more fun as I show her more of what man-on-man sex is all about. I make her feel how my prostate gets fucked during sex, except I’m the one topping and I’m doing it with her clit so the mechanics are different. It’s great topping her doggy-style like a dude while still in her pussy, and the sex is masculine. I get pretty filthy describing my gay sex memories from my time in the city, and I enjoy piston-fucking her pussy while imagining I’m with those men. She comes brutally hard. We do it again with her legs on my shoulders as I explain that I’m going to fuck the cum out of her. She calls me her big bear and feels my chest and stomach. I explode from this exotic gay role-play with this intelligent, passionate woman that gets me the way no one else does. But I only give her a taste. I don’t want her leaving me for another gay dude, either!