Tina the Tourist Pt. 01

Tourist

She was nervous and excited about visiting out of state for the first time by herself. She chose Dallas because of her love of the classic show she watched in syndication as a kid. She also heard Yellowstone was shot there, not to mention it being a cowboy heaven. When she got there, she was surprised to see it was not like the TV or in movies. The Dallas/Fort Worth area was a huge metropolitan area, rival to any urban center in the US. Looking through the hotel's brochures, she wanted to see something of that old cowboy era.

She decided on the Stockyards in Fort Worth. It seemed like a fun place to visit. You had the cattle drive through twice a day. You had a petting zoo and other attractions. It looked fine and then she saw a brochure that really caught her eye. Hold on, she thought. Is that a ghost tour? There was a ghost tour that started in the Stockyards. Immediately intrigued, she made reservations and found her way that night to the Stockyards. This was everything she had wanted when she had come to Fort Worth. It was called Cowtown for a reason. Well, there was more cattle business that went on say, 100 years ago; however plenty still was going on. She was so engaged with the sights and sounds.

As the tour group gathered the guide Tex revealed himself. He was a redheaded, tall man with a little bit of a dadbod. He had piercing blue eyes and a long red beard sprinkled with white. She did not know that he immediately noticed her before she had even given him a thought; she was short 4'7", his biggest turn-on. She had beautiful, curly hair, a beautiful caramel skin, the mixture of a Latina and Asian Pacific in her face, and oh my goodness, her smile. Marlowe once asked of Helen of Troy. "Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" As with Helen's face, so her smile could cause any mortal to lose sense of their sanity just to have this smile directed at them.

He wore a cowboy hat that had been specially customized for him, as he pointed out as they passed the store that had done it. He knew where his bread was buttered and even though you did not pay for that endorsement, you were going to get it. He had on a button down Western shirt, the traditional, cowboy Wrangler's jeans, and boots that were also purchased at a famous downtown shop. This was everything she had wanted when she came to visit the Dallas area.

Unaware of what the night would entail, she had worn a blue-themed, flowy sundress covered in flowers. It was simple, but she looked so cute. Her hair was appropriately curled, her sandals were cute and more than anything, she looked pretty and she knew it. The tour guide definitely reiterated her opinion; he admittedly could not stop staring. To be honest, she didn't mind that; she couldn't stop staring at him.

There still seemed something off about him. His personality did not look like he belonged in that cowboy hat and the cowboy boots. Something was just... undefinable. She couldn't get enough of his accent or impeccable manners and courtesy. He helped every lady up the stairs. He would tip his hat when a lady would walk past and told the story of the old Texas cowboy with his actions.

His deep voice told story after story of the Fort Worth area. There were stories of Bonnie and Clyde, jilted lovers, broken hearts, premature deaths, and evil men who hurt many, unable to rest. The stories were fascinating, and he told the stories with such great passion and familiarity in detail. She kept looking at his ring finger or waiting for him to mention his girlfriend or wife or fiancé. No such word ever came up. She was very focused on the tour, but also really turned on.

As the tour dismissed, he thanked people and tipped his hat to every tip received. He thanked each person, personally shook a few hands, took pictures with the tourists, and finally, it was him and the doting tourist. Neither of them would say so out loud, but they did not want the evening to end. Through shy but confident charm, he thanked her for coming and asked if he might ask her a question. Nervous, she nodded.

"Finally, that is over. My name isn't Tex. It's Justin. It's very nice to meet you." Her jaw dropped as she heard him speak perfect English without any accent. The only way you could tell he was Texan was with his vocabulary. Every once in a while he used the phrase "reckon" or "fixin' to" and especially "y'all." She could listen to him and say "y'all" all night.

"I'm Tina," she responded through her stunned visage.

"I hope you don't mind. I play a character. The people want to see the image of the Western Cowboy, John Wayne, JR Ewing, the Duttons. They want to see Tex tell them stories about cowboys and gunfights and their romanticized vision of Western movies. They don't want to see Justin, the guy with the Bachelor's Degree in History from Texas A&M who couldn't teach because he would corrupt the minds of youth and we saw how well that worked out for Socrates."

"Was that a Socrates reference?" She responded surprisingly pleased.

"Yeah. Look, Tina. This is wild and really unprofessional of me. I never do this. But you got the Tourist version of me tonight. Downtown Fort Worth is a place dripping in history. We have so much more than just 'Bonnie & Clyde stayed at a hotel once.' Would you care to join me for a walk? Dinner and drinks are on me."

Her heart fluttering, she nodded. Reaching his hand to hers, he held her tiny hand in his as they walked together. Her hand felt engulfed in his. She also was intrigued by the thickness of his fingers. For the first time tonight, her romance added a feral component. He told story after story of the buildings, the people, the characters, the events, stories of prohibition and Civil Rights struggles and the Old West, German, Czech, Creole, Black, Mexican influence. The passion and love for his admittedly imperfect city bled through his every word. Unbeknownst to him, with every story, she was seduced.

Suddenly as they passed an alley, she pulled them into it. Taking her cue, he kissed her with a fiery spark. The kiss was perfect, passionate, immeasurable. She slid his hand up to her panties and directed him to slide them off. She bent down to pick them up. She stuffed them into his Wrangler's jean pocket. "Hold onto these for me."

"Yes, ma'am," he responded in his fake Texan drawl.

Smiling she unzipped his jeans. "You know, I've been wanting this since the first time you held my hand." She slid down his boxer briefs to his extremely inviting cock. She massaged it for a little bit in her mouth, enjoying feeling it expand. When he was hard enough she jumped into his arms. Instinctually he gently shoved her back against the brick wall. He steadied her just right and then found the correct angle.

He slid inside. Any other night he would savor every thrust. Right now it was not about savoring. It was about instinct, the animalistic urge, the need to put his cock into her. She reveled in the ecstasy of bouncing on his cock, releasing her need for control, in his safe-yet also brutal-proverbial hands.

Too constricted by the dress to take her breasts out, in pure desperation, he began to suck her breasts through the dress. She could fell everything getting drenched in the spit, and she didn't care. She was enjoying the sensation in the feeling. Yes, a few more thrusts... just the right amount of time... he came inside her filling her with his life juice. Simultaneously she came. As the two of them began to reconvene in their emotions, they kissed. Satisfied he let her down like a gentleman. She leaned over to kiss his cock on its head and whispered, "Thank you."

He lifted her head up to make eye contact with her. "Dinner?" She nodded, licked her bottom lip and put her tiny hand in his and followed his lead.