Pumping. Thumping. Hitting hard. Banging on. Relentless. Never ending. And then it started to rain. Not for the first fucking time at a festival. The...music continued uninterrupted. And who was on stage? Kirsten didn’t know. Didn’t care. After all those weeks comparing DJs. Was Carl Cox on? Was Judge Jules, Paul Oakenfold, Ferry Corsten, Armand Van Helden? Was it going to be blinding? Or cheesy? Or hard? Or trancey? Who fucking cared? The rain beat down gently, softer than the music, barely. My pussy now empty, leaking fluid down my legs and onto the floor. He reamed my ass as a second, more powerful, sensation replaced the first. I have never had more powerful orgasms than with a guy taking my ass. I have ever since I started having sex in high school. My first boyfriend and I did it to avoid pregnancy and I came to really enjoy it. It was carefree. My breathing ragged and harsh, I came. Biting my lip hard to muffle the sound. God, he knew how to fuck, just how to take me. I loved. She had told them of the situation and made cutting and bailing of hay sound like a real neat dude ranch outing, and they all pitched in and had the woman’s fields stripped and her livelihood protected for that year within a week. The guests left saying this was the best vacation from the worries they had waiting for them themselves in the greater world that they ever could have wished for—and steeped in a good yarn to impress their city-bound friends and in the satisfaction of having. As my men took care of their horses, I made sure Red, Pintar, Diablo and Blue were well fed and cared for. We’ve come a long way together and they’re as close to me as my people friends.I looked at my Kansas map and figured we were a little over five hundred miles from Silver Lake. I knew my trains well, and I knew the engineer had this big old girl strung out as we headed almost due east out of Colorado. I figured we were running at least fifty miles an hour and at that rate, we’d be in Silver.