BULLSH!T: Ride Me, Cowgirl! (Les)

ATTENTION: 1. The language of this story is itself one of the main characters. The language is a Texas dialect; the story without the special language would not be the same story. This story is rampant with words spelled to reflect this Texas dialect. Local gringo lingo. Scilicet: liberal use of ' in' ' instead of '-ing', e. g. 'askin' ', 'git' = 'get', 'agin' = 'against' or 'again', 'thang' = 'thing', 'thank' = 'think' or regular 'thank' as in 'thanks'. YEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!!! = Ye-Haw!', 'Texas' = 'TEXAS!'. ATTENTION: 1. The language of this story is itself one of the main characters. The language is a Texas dialect; the story without the special language would not be the same story. This story is rampant with words spelled to reflect this Texas dialect. Local gringo lingo. Scilicet: liberal use of ' -in' ' instead of '-ing', e. g. 'askin' ', 'git' = 'get', 'agin' = 'against' or 'again', 'thang' = 'thing', 'thank' = 'think' or regular 'thank' as in 'thanks'. YEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!!! = Ye-Haw!', 'Texas' = 'TEXAS!'. Sometimes a word like 'fer' is used in dialog and the regular 'for' is used in the same sentence "I'm lookin' fer a hottie for a good time.". It is confusing, but it is real, just like especially here in the Big D Dallas area speakers spatter from Texan to regular English to Spanish or Hindi all the time.

I hasten to add that as of the week Sept 24, 2026, an all-time record has been broken when Ella Langley's hit song "Choosin' Texas" topped the the Billboard Hot 100 for a 23rd week: an all time record. Please, listen to her song(s). They are rich with the vocabulary and grammar found in this story, Again, scilicet, the use of the words 'thangs', I'mma', et cetera. Please do yourself a great musical favor and listen to Ella's record breaking songs. Of course "Choosin' Texas" is rated the best, but "Be Her" is the most toe-tappin' happy song you'll ever hear and on a most personal note "Broken" is the saddest song I have ever heard in my life.

Any attempt at spell-check or grammar check will overload your word processing program. However, even given the outrageousness of the writing, I think it is punctuationally correct.

These Texas characters are not blatherskites. So saddle-up! Let's ride!

2. Conversely, I am a logophile so you've already been introduced to 'scilicet' and 'blatherskites'. You will also see exquisite words like 'harken' and 'connive', When seen in context their meanings are discernable.

3. Some Texas story characters seem to draw out, I could say "drawl out", the hate in readers. Some readers just don't like Texas or Texans. I'm just funnin' ya with the characters. I mean no offense.

4. I do my own editing and am far from perfect at it. I become blind to even obvious errors. Mea culpa. I beg your indulgence.

5. There is NO underage sex in this story, neither stated nor implied. That's against Literotica's guidelines. Git it?

6. Here is a 4th version of this story. A Lesbian version Each version is independent of each other even if the names are the same. All of them have a main strong character named Tanner or Tanya aka 'Cowboy' or 'Cowgirl'. All four have a beautiful lady named Bella (Bellissima). In one story Tanner is her father (The T/I story). In another version Tanner and she are simply two people who meet up (The Mature version). In the third story Tanner is an unrepentant womanizer and Bella is his prey. (The Loving Wives version). In this story Tanya is a Lesbian, Bella is... uncertain and untried. If some are in a category you don't typically read, please give those versions a try. 'Vive la difference'!

Enjoy this Texas tale!

LET'S RODEO!

YIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPEEEEEEE!!!

BULLSH! T: Ride me CowGirl! (Lesbian version).

A New Day, A New Life

Life can be wonderful. I mean, sometimes life just gives you its all; hands you blessings by the bucketful.

We're gonna tell about one of those instances. Wanna get a grin on yer face? Set a spell; We'll spin our tale. A tale of uncertainty, exploration, and of being broken.

Broken has more than one meaning, especially to a cowgirl.

I'm the more mature half of "We're". You'll meet the younger female half here in a shake.

I'm Tanya, from down here in Tejas or Texas, depending on your preference. Texas works for sure, Tejas is fine with me too. I'm a good lookin', hard workin', hell raisin', fun lovin' proud Texas bitch. Proud and loud. Is there any other way a Texas woman should be?

I'm quasi-successful when it comes to money. Rich? Hell no. Comfortable? Yer gettin' warmer. Scrapin' by: nope: ya done gone too low. I guess a bit above paycheck to paycheck, enough such that I don't give money any worry. I work at a feed store down here in boomin' North Texas, around, mostly North, of Big D. Dallas to you non-Texans. I split my time between mannin' the store and out doin' deliveries and helping the customers do chores. The hours can be long, the work hard, but it don't gimme no nevermind. I'm happy. I'm happy helpin' make other folks happy.

And my life is full. Full of happiness.

One aspect of my life is particularly full. One that matters a lot. A great deal.

One that separates me from most other females. From most other people.

I am a wholesome, lively, pretty female. I'm not quite talkin' movie star beautiful, but desirably beautiful to males and females. I'm fit too. Fit and firm; I guess 'athletic' suits me to a T. Gruff, and leather tough. I attract fellas and ladies; but I'm a ladies' lady: for relationships men are off the menu. I do pop the eyes out of the ladies. I'm female eye-candy. Women see me and want me.

Which is my pleasure. Yes, I am lesbian. And much sought after.

I put women at ease with my smile. They see in me a purdy, friendly Cowgirl they'd like to rustle-up a good time with. The words I most often hear about myself are friendly, sincere, confident, and genuine. I'm their best friend.

And that's the dusty trail to their hearts. And their naughty bits. Ta-tas and vacoochie.

I'm their best sex partner.

And we are both happy with that.

THE most-heard phrase I hear from the ladies: "RIDE ME, Cowgirl!" Yes Ma'am. Dang near every time, dang near every day. And night. Mostly night.

I mention... no I proudly boast... that I am a Cowgirl. A real Cowgirl. Not a wannabe or dress-up drugstore Cowgirl. I wasn't raised on a ranch but I worked on one damn near my whole younger life. I did rodeo gigs for a short spell; I have a few championship belt buckles to show off.

And that Cowgirl persona is what the ladies love. It, when combined with my good looks, taut physique, and outgoing gregarious personality, provides me with all the fillies I want. That and a not-so-secret advantage. I tell that secret later once you get to know me better.

That's my life. That's my life now.

I love haven' fun. I am fun. 'Fun' is my middle name: Tanya 'Fun' Clementine. Yup. (Now don't you believe that hogwash!)

Fun at 35 years old. I have more female suitors than I need or want.

Truth be told, though, as active as my life is, I just don't feel right. I feel empty.

I often feel lonely. I need someone. A constant companion to share living life with. To add joy to living.

I don't right know who or what I seek. I'm wishin', I'm hopin', I'll know her when I see her.

I thrived on sex. And I am great at it. So great that I, in addition to my great looks and personality, developed a sexual style remarkable and hotly demanded for by women. A style of sex few other men or women can manage and pull off.

And with that teaser, I now hand this story over to my dear Bella. Bellissima.

Howdy, Ya'll! I'm Bella. Lil' Bella.

My real name is "Bellissima". It is a more modern Italian word from the Latin 'Bella', meaning 'beautiful', but with the feminine singular superlative suffix '-issima' (like our suffix '-est'), creating the meaning 'most beautiful'. Legally it is 'Bellissima', but go by 'Bella'.

I'm currently twenty years old.

I am Bellissima... I am beautiful. People tell me I am, I know I am.

I am knee-high to a Texas grasshopper, topping out at about five foot two. I have the cutest teenage face. It, I, exude pulchritude. My well styled hair is naturally flaxen but I keep it delightfully blonde. I have large, doe eyes, like anime characters, yet my mouth and lips are small and luscious.

I'm hot. I know I am. But I don't feel hot.

I'm wired... weird? Wrong?

Let me continue with my self-description for clarification.

Neck-up: Belissima. Most beautiful.

Neck-down: hmmmmmm. There's a few problems. Problems that cause more problems.

I'm thin. I don't quite crack 100 pounds. My body I guess got a memo to start changing me from girl to lady. I had my puberty. But it no sooner started then it stopped.

Woman-wize, my vagina looks and functions as it should for my age. Thank God!

But otherwise, my boobies and ass barely developed. I'm flat upstairs and downstairs, front and back. I have two nubs for tits and two bumps for a rump. I was 'straight up and narrow'.

My image of myself was conflicted: I was very pretty, 'purdy', we say here, but otherwise undesirable.

I became withdrawn. I feigned disinterest.

During adolescence and thereafter I was confused and ashamed. I became an object of constant ridicule from males and females alike. My body growth was stunted; so mirrored my emotional growth. I ached for friends but had none. No one to relate my problems to, no one to discuss my insecurities with.

I'm in college now. I live with my aunt helping her around her home in the outskirts of Dallas.

I don't much socialize. I want to, but neither seek nor achieve the opportunity do so.

I get lonely. I stay confused. I know there is more to life than I am experiencing.

I need help. I want help.

Now to muddle thangs up a lil' bit more. I'm not a virgin. I've had experimental sex with males and females. May I hasten to add none of them had sex with me more than once. I can only assume they didn't like something(s) about me. Something(s) repulsed them. That was a real ego-bruiser.

During those few and brief interludes of intimacy I questioned myself: of course, since I'm female, I'm attracted to males, right? But truth be told, I was not attracted to or excited or aroused by them. Then ditto with the females, although I did in fact seem to get at least some reaction towards them. The net result was that I gave up on both male and female companionship: If they didn't desire me, I didn't desire them.

In my inner turmoil regarding what I wanted out of life, what I wanted in a relationship should any eventually crop up, I barely began to drift in a certain direction; something I had read about in college:

Limerence. An actual psychological malady. Albeit a bittersweet malady. I know it is wrong to see it that way.

Limerence. A real mental and emotional dysfunction.

Limerence. The easy definition is " A state of intense, involuntary, romantic attachment to a person who does not reciprocate the feeling. A strong longing for someone who will not long for you." Thoughts of the limerent person, the person of your limerence, are intrusive, idealized, and all-consuming. A key difference distinguishing limerence from love is limerence involves a future/fantasy unrequited relationship. Love involves a present, realistic, reciprocal relationship.

Limerence: I subconsciously developed an attraction for a type of person, not a specific person.

I was weak. I saw myself as needy, a follower, not an equal. I desired someone who would be my lead. My better. Someone who would accept my gifts to them: adoration and compliance, and in return give me love and warmth. We would be unequal partners.

One day Tanya showed up at my Aunt's home. She had seen Tanya's phone number on the side of her work truck and had come over to help with some more physical chores.

Tanya surprised me. She was a woman-man: purdy for sure, but rugged.

And very friendly. She instantly got my attention and put me at ease.

After finishing the chores My Aunt paid Tanya. I asked her if she'd like to rest for a spell before she left.

She gave me a lookin' over. She thought I was purdy too. I well knew the look she gave me.

We talked on the front porch while my Aunt ran errands.

We told each other our histories. I thought her busy social life was funtastic. Tanya's life was funner than I could even imagine. I could tell she was right proud of herself and her status. I felt that she saw me as a quirk, and oddity. As the time passed we more enjoyed getting to know each other. Tanya could not grasp how someone as purdy as I had almost no social life. I could not grasp how someone as popular as Tanya could wish to be in my presence.

I began to want to be Tanya. To be like Tanya. To be with Tanya. She, her lifestyle, was an unachievable goal: limerence. Any attraction was one-sided and unrequited.

Yet I sensed that Tanya did have some manner of attraction towards me. My beauty? It does happen. My history? Meh, probably not. Then it struck me: my personality: I was almost everything Tanya was not. I had her pulchritude but not her personality. She saw in me promise unrealized; unfulfilled. She saw someone to mold in her image. Someone to be the yin to her yang, complimentary contrary people.

Tanya was an energetic 35 years old with a terrifically bright future ahead of her. She estimated I was about to hit the beginning of my prime as I was 20 years old. Tanya subconsciously factored in that she could share my youthful exploits with her; she could be a part of them, be a cause of them, and reap the benefits of such a relationship.

I had managed to come across to Tanya as someone who might be fun if given the chance. I could be a fun fay. Could I be gay?

Tanya homed in on the topic of my social life, specifically, my sex life.

I told her yes, I saw some boys every now and then but they always disappointed me in every way. "I've been with boys. I've done more than kiss. I've had sex, and many kinds of sex. But the guys these days, they watch porn but aren't able to actually perform sexually when the chance opens up right in front of them."

I giggled. I had opened up (my legs) in front of them a few times. They flubbed the invitation.

"They are duds. Dude duds."

I pouted my lower lip and looked down in pantomimic sadness.

"Dud dudes, eh? Tell me what a typical date night is like with my special, beautiful Bellissima angel." she asked, genuinely interested.

" Ugh! A waste of time. We usually don't go anywhere. I go to his place and he'll order some cheap gross grub and then want to watch something on TV or play videogames on the computer. Then as the evening winds down, so does he. No build-up for sex. No exciting 'Wham bam thank you ma'am ' sexplosion. Just 'Ho-hum, wake me when you're done' stuff. Bleh."

"No Fun?"

"Pffft." I answered in disgust. "If pfffting is fun, then I guess you could say we had fun. Making the pfffft noise is fun."

"Pfffft!" He made the onomatopoeic interjection sound too.

That made us both laugh.

"Ever been with a female?" Tanya asked.

I replied, "A few times. They weren't any better than the males. I struck out with both. Neither of them want me."

She picked up on my lead.

"Good men, real men, treat a woman right. Same with women: They should make sure every date is at least fun and possibly meaningful. I need to write a book on how to do that. It would be a best seller and a real pleaser."

"I bet yer a lot of fun on dates." I gave her an inquisitive look.

"Yes ma'am, young Missus. That I am. Always have been and proud of it. Mighty proud of it."

"Why don't I take you on a date, Bellissima? Are you up for a good time?"

Tanya was cool as a cucumber. Not cold as ice. I was a woman, and she loved women; present company included.

'Y'know what, Sugar Britches, I'll do the right and proper thing and show you an especially pleasant full evening. I'll show you what a good... no... a great time is when two people go on a date and have some fun."

"What kind of thang you got in mind for a great mate date?" I asked.

"Ooooohhhh listen to your teasin'. Mate? Is that the noun or the verb?"

"It's both for you. If you want it to be." I turned beet red. What on earth was I doin'? I was downright, forthwith, talkin' 'bout sex to Tanya. She was drawing out aspects of me I didn't know I had. I got playful.

Tanya surpassed my bright red beetness. She was glad to see me open up to her, albeit unexpected.

" I ain' t agin' it." she smiled at me.

I stumbled.

"Hey, I just whupped up a joke." I said. "What did one cow say to the other cow at the cowded -- I mean crowded -- feeding trough?"

(pause)

"Mooooove over."

"Hot dang that was corny!" I said slapping my knees, suffering my own joke.

"Now hold on there Sugar Patch. Did he say 'mooooooooove over' (extra long drawl on the 'moooooooove' part) AND say the trough was corny like it had a lot of corn in it?"

"Your messin' with Texas, Cowgirl. Now shush!"

"Cowgirl?" Tanya acted surprised. "Is that my name now, Cowgirl?"

"Well then, Miss smarty britches, where did the term 'Cowboy' come from?"

"I dunno. Like the Greek Minotaur, Bull's head and man's body? Cow + boy?"

"The man was bull-headed?" quipped Ms. Quick-wit.

"Now you're the one messin' with Sasquatch."

"No. 'Cowboy ' came from the time a young'un took his prize cow to auction and the auctioneer said to him 'that's some cow, boy.'."

"Is that true?" I questioned.

"Is an August day in Texas hot?" Tanya replied.

(brief pause)

"Gotcha! I just made that up!" Tanya hollered.

We both laughed.

"Ya know what, though? You called me Cowgirl. I used to be a real honest to gosh Cowgirl. I got some rodeo belt buckles to prove it. I can wear one when I go dancin' sometimes. I love to dance. It's a hoot.

"What say we go on a date to go country-western dancin' together? I can't do it often enough and you ain't done it ever."

Tanya's eyes got serious. She was reflecting on her more youthful times and endeavors.

"Dancin'." she murmured, as if in a trance. "Dancin' is pure magic. It puts a spell on the two people doing it. The beauty of the music. The words of the songs. Touching your partner in a way that is just short of sex. Teasing the sex to come.

"They say dancin' is two people doing vertically what they want to do horizontally." She winked at me. "But when you're dancin', and touching, there is still that spark, that excitement, of the unknown and uncertain. The anticipation of what could be just around the bend."

She nodded his noggin in agreement with herself.

She continued her soliloquy: "Dancin' draws two people together in a strong attraction. They lose inhibitions they have. They open themselves up in an honest and risky way. It is the fraternal twin of sex: in sex too the couple expose themselves fully to each other, literally hiding nothing. Everything about them is laid bare."

She paused. A gentle, kind, loving smile curled her lips. Her eyes lost in thought.

"Whatcha thankin', Cowgirl?"

She awoke from her daydream.

"Wha- ... Oh. Oh, Sweetness, I was just, as you would say, 'thankin' about dancin'."

"Yeeeeee-Haw! Let's do it!" I offered.

"Woo-Hoo! Young lady, would you join me on a date to go fandango?"

"I would, Cowgirl!"

"We'll Texas two-step the night away! We'll boot scoot our way to each other's heart!"

"Weeee-Doggy! We'll drink and dance and drink and talk Texas funny and drink and meet other people and drink and ...."

"That's a lot of drinkin'. You really thirsty for somethin'?" Tanya pointed out.

"I'll be careful." I added. "But not too careful. I am thirsty for somethin' tasty."

"I'll take good care of you." Tanya promised.

Tanya got up to leave.

We were both smiling like two schoolkids. Our excitement was mutual and it was as real as a Texas summer day is long. And just as hot.

I had a few days to investigate and prepare.

This dancin' date, my first real adult date, was turning out to be daunting.

First and foremost: Dancin'. Dancin'? I didn't know squat about dancin'. Any dancin'. And once I started looking into it it turned out there was a tremendous amount to it.

On the western dancin' videos there were a few different types: Texas Two-step, Line Dancing, Country waltz, West Coast Swing, and even Polka. Without a doubt the two I liked and saw the most of were Texas two-step and Line dance.

Now I'm no dancer. Never pole danced, never modern danced, booty bounced or scootied my booty. I never danced nuthin. Well, maybe a twerk or a twirl at one time or another.

But Glory be to God I had dancing in my blood. I must have gotten it from Tanya. These dances are very choreographed. There are proper steps which if not done correctly will make you look like a buffoon. Like a king or queen clutz. Especially the line dance. You don't want to be the sole clown in that circus.

I practiced and reckoned that I was at least as good as a beginner (as opposed to a stiff, rigid statue) and might could do well enough.

I'd have to make do with what innate and newly acquired ability I had.

Now... what to wear. OMG the possibilities were endless and all over God's kingdom: Regular button down shirt, western shirt, long sleeves, short sleeves, the Second Amendment 'Right to Bare Arms' no sleeves (Also known as the infamous redneck 'wife beater' shirt).

Tank top, t-shirt, halter top, camisole with no bra (hey now!). By all means: flash some boobage! God gave you udders for more than milkin', my dears. They are succulent, yes? Titilate! Free them thar nips! Show that flat belly! Tease to please.

Long skirt, medium skirt, short shirt, micro flirt skirt. Don't be shy. Barely cover your honeyhole. Honeyholes. Show your camel toe, Honey! A sneak peek at your undies will do more to attract males than any of the dancin' moves you'll do.

Then there is the possibility of wearin' shorts. Regular, cut-offs, made of jeans, made of more stretchy material, but the favorite of shorts is the 'Daisy Dukes': they are usually tight fitting (but not always tight) with most of the leg part cut off so that your ass cheeks hang out. I call'em 'ass-shrieks' bcuz people shriek at the display of the flab slab of ass mass. "OH MY! Looky at dat ass! It wiggles. It jiggles. Gimme some dat bum!"

I'm tellin ya, when you watch the videos of the ladies dancin' at these country-western clubs a lot of them look like they didn't give a skunk's scent about attracting a mate. But other ladies, you can tell, gave attracting a mate paramount importance. Use those assets, ladies! If ya got 'em, flaunt 'em! I don't have no titties or ass. I'm flat up and down, front and behind, but I'm still gonna flaunt what I got!

I, and please don't hang me for this, did not own a pair of Cowgirl boots. Dag nab it!

I hightailed it to a nearby thrift store and they had beaucoup of boots. There were boots made of every skin that existed: the blah-bah cow/bull skin, pig skin, goatskin, the blase' eel skin, alligator skin, shark skin, ostrich skin, the less common hippo skin, elephant skin, toad skin, and even beaver tail skin (Ya'll don't touch my beaver!). I'd swear there was even space alien skin and one with what looked like human skin, complete with tattoos. I didn't see any Nike boots. C'mon Nike, you're missing a market!

I nabbed a cheap pair of scuffed fancy stitched leather boots.

I did, to my credit, own a couple of Cowgirl hats. I put one on and looked in the mirror at myself.

"You're a right purdy picture there, Missus." I said as I winked at myself. "Do I look delicious, Cowgirl? Good enough to eat? Good enough to gobble?" I nodded and blew myself a kiss. Mwah!

I could not wait until date night. I tried to talk to Tanya twice but he only replied via text to let my anticipation simmer and fester and boil so that when the date finally happened it would surpass my wildest (horniest) dreams.

Date night:

I had ants in my pants all day. They crawled on me when I ate outside.

No, seriously, I was giddy all day that Saturday. All Tanya told me was to be ready for the date at eight.

Eight sharp. Look sharp. Look as sharp as a Bowie knife.

It was like I was getting ready for the prom. I had never had a night like this before.

I treated myself to a long, lush, scented salt bath. I luxuriously ladled myself with the warm liquid. I pampered my skin to a cushioned softness with a youthful glow.

I put on makeup meticulously; eyeliner, eyeshadow, brow brush, blush, foundation, lipstick, the whole shebang. I was surprised how different I looked: Like a more womanly me. A more beautiful me. A painted face can transform a lady!

The garb. The clothes. Dang, nearly could say 'the costume'.

I did choose to wear underwear. No commando tonight. Not only to keep a layer between my skin and rough clothes, but to provide that moment of salacious near-nudity if she undresses me. I chose a white pair of cheeky-cut panties with hearts on 'em.

Fer a shirt I went with a thin material lightweight white camisole. It hung loose over my shoulders and my B-cup little baby boobies had ample playroom to jiggle around with my every move. Of course no bra. Free them nips! Let them par-tay! Lick-a-licious. My nips were obvious and were going to catch the eye of anyone trying to sneak a peak of my sweet treats, which would be everyone.

The camisole hung to just above my belly button. I hope I well conveyed, or made easily imaginable, how sexy that top was. It was like negligee, though not as transparent.

I was getting hot just looking at myself in it. I was ssssmokin'. Hell, I was sizzzzzlin'!

My shorts. Yup: Daisy Dukes. I don't have a fat ass, I have a petite little flat ass. But I do in fact have glutes, butt muscles, Glutei Maximi, but mine don't sag like most buttcheeks (ass-shrieks!), mine form a firm upward curve to give me a niiiiiiccccceeee little round ass.

Yeah, continue on down to longish lanky legs, and travel down to my thrift-store boots. The sexiness ends there.

Oh, and up top a plain cowboy hat, which is another way of sayin' Cowgirl hat.

And of course my cross necklace. Every girl gotta wear one. Can I getta "Amen!"?

I was primed for a good pumpin'.

Promptly at eight Tanya rang my doorbell. When I answered it she presented me with a bouquet of flowers. Such a romantic gal.

God, or may I say 'Gawd', she was a sight to behold.. Gruff for sure, but gorgeous.

She dressed for real, for who she was, not for show. What you see is what you get.

You want a fake Cowgirl? A wannabe Cowgirl? A dud gal? Someone who feeds you bull instead of rides one? She ain't it.

Sure, she cleaned up. Cleaned up well. Even put on some nice smell-good cologne. She carefully executed her appearance to exhibit who she wanted me and everyone else to see: Her.

Tanya has rugged looks. Playful long black hair. A gentle, warm face.

She exudes friendliness. Charm. Confidence. Maturity. Warmth.

She is no action hero muscle blob. She is healthily fit. Like a lean, not mean, not fightin' machine.

I guess only the lean part!

She wore a plain white collared button down shirt, like she would wear to work, except this one was extra clean and unwrinkled. No fancy western embroidery: it spoke to its own westernness.

She wore some nice fitting lighter-toned Wrangler jeans. Slim fit, I'm sure. She had a nice slim ass. What prized possessions were hidden within the front of those jeans?

Her boots were a step above work boots. You could tell she wore them to go out socializing, and she wore them often. Back up top, Tanya had a nice Cowgirl hat. What I said about the boots, ditto for the hat. It didn't scream 'COWGIRL!'. It flatly said 'Cowgirl'.

Let me end on the most noteworthy, the most spectacular aspect of her appearance (That was visible with her clothes on.): Her smile. Gosh dang, her smile would conquer any woman. Anyone. Her smile was her to a T. Her smile cast a spell of kindness and trust.

Tanya looked at me in all my beautyishness. her gaze showed that first she was pleased, then confused, then disappointed.

"What's with all this rigmarole? Hey... wait... where is Bella?"

Now I was the confused one. "I... what do you mean?"

"Bella? Bella? I guess it is you after all, underneath all that makeup."

She was teasing me. Initially I was a little insulted; I assumed my makeup made me more beautiful. It dawned on me that the more makeup I used, the less of the real me shined through. I wasn't prettying myself, I was disguising myself.

"I don't want no make-up made woman looking like a Hollywood wannabe." she coached. She wiped away much of my makeup and said she wanted me to look more like the real me and less like a faux (fake) me. I took that as a great complement. "I love my beautiful Bellissima. Natural Bellissima. You don't need to diminish your beauty by adding to it."

I was back on cloud nine. My Cowgirl done swept me off my boots.

The date of my life was back on track.

I left for a moment to clean off most of my makeup.

When I reapproached her she looked at my face for only an instant before her eyes dropped to my budding obtrusive bubbling B-cup boobies. She was stuck in a stare. Dumbstruck. Udderly hypnotized.

"My face is up here." I goaded her, breaking the spell.

"You know those are two sirens calling out to all to admire them." Tanya said.

"Anyone can look at them, but only you can touch." I cooed.

"That makes me the luckiest gal alive".

"Well, my Cowgirl, you make me the luckiest lady alive."

We held hands.

"I've given it a stockyard load of thoughts and here is what bucked out: we're going to BULLSH! T."

Now when I perused the C/W clubs in North Texas that club did pop up, but I didn't click on it.

It wasn't nearby, it was over in the stockyard district of Fort Worth. It wasn't a tourist trap C/W club, it was a local favorite. It was a Texas dancin', Two-steppin' country club. No, not the ritzy kind of country club. The honky-tonk kind.

A lot of Texans listen to country music. I don't. And truth be told I myself am no Cowboy aficionado. I nearly don't know squat about Cowboys. They are in a lot of old timey movies where they go around ridin' horses killin' each other with six-shooter pistols I reckon. I remember watchin' "Walker, Texas Ranger", starring Chuck Norris, the modern Cowboy who counted to infinity... three times.

I do Texas proud and I do 'Remember the Alamo' (I harken with head bowed).

I say ther bcuz this crowd I was about to join was new to me. I didn't know the environment, the inhabitants, the cowboys and cowgirls, or the rules.

This was serious adult-type fun. Not generation-whatever silly mush. You'd think everyone livin' in Texas did this western stuff every night and knew everything about it. Not so. Not even close.

We almost all live in the city and suburbs just like regular people. Yeah, you see a lot of Cowboy hats down here. A lot of blue jeans. Yeah, our football team is named the Dallas COWBOYS.

But back to the issue at hand, I was nervous about this dancin' date night gig. This was real. The chance I might make a dadgum fool of myself was troubling.

Tanya could see the concern on my face.

She stood before me and held both my hands. She leaned forward and gave me a smooch.

"You're brave, Darlin'. You're mine, Darlin'. Everythang's gonna be alright.

"Can I quote one of my favorite Shakespearian sayings? It addresses fear of the unknown. It's from "Julius Caesar", spoken by Brutus before he goes into battle: " O, that a man might know the end of this day's business 'ere it come! But it sufficeth that the day will end, and then the end is known."

"Shakespeare Cowgirl!" I said with glee. "May I quoth some more Shakespeare back at ya? From Shakespeare's play "Swordfight at the O. K. Corral", where Sir Wyatt Earp says to his more demure brother Sir Quiet Earp: 'Let's ride, Cowgirl!' "

"Geez sweet Louise. Listen to us rabbleing." Tanya said. "Indeed; let's go ride, my Gal. Hey, I want to give you a fun Cowgirl test. I'm gonna ask you somethin' that may or may not surprise you about horses. Ya ready?"

"I'm ready, Cowgirl. A bitch is not a female horse though, right?"

'Technically it is a female dog, fox, wolf, or ferocious otter. Well, the otter doesn't even have to be ferocious. And no, you are not a bitch, my Bellissima."

"You, Cowboy Cowgirl, go ahead and test my equine wits."

"OK now: here's the question: is a baby horse called a pony?"

"Hmmmmm...." I pondered. Of course a baby horse could be and is called a pony. "Yes! A baby horse is called a pony!"

"Oh dear Bellissima! No, a 'pony' is a breed of small horses. A pony has nothing to do with its age."

"Yer bullshittin' or horseshittin' me, ain't ya?"

"'Fraid not, darlin'. I share that with you so's you can share it with others later." She put her arm around me.

Tanya's old truck looked right at home in the dirt and gravel parking lot of BULLSH! T.

"You know we Cowgirls drive pickup trucks so we can pick-up our ladies." She winked.

"And that explains the bed in the back all trucks have." I reckoned.

"I use the second row seat for the flirtin' and courtin'" she winked. "It's more comfortable."

BULLSH! T was a large watering hole built for Texans to come to for fun and fellowship. Drinkin' and flirtin'. Hopefully a man or woman might find a cure for loneliness, or a spot for dancin' exercise, or somewhere to quench a thirst, or just somewhere to spend some time.

"I'm sure you'll see and feel that this here establishment qualifies as a lek, so you will be gawked at by all the men, especially being as purdy and provocatively dressed as you are."

"A Lake?"

"No, a 'lek'. A gathering place for males to attract females."

"Cowgirl, you teach me something new every day." That's some smarts you hide 'neath yer Cowgirl hat."

"You'll attract females too, some of 'em. So be wary! It could get scary!"

Tanya nodded her approval..

BULLSH! T was like a humongous barn. It had a giant well-lit Texas flag adorning the parking lot. Weathered wooden wagon wheels and a complete wagon were in the front. The large wooden doors were usually kept open and the music rattled outside far and wide. Native Texas wildflowers, scrubs and cacti were the foliage.

There were simple strings of lights leading from the parking area to the front and side doors, but no real fancy outdoor lighting. Even the BULLSH! T main sign was low-key: painted metal with blinking light bulbs around its periphery, and more lightbulbs spelling out the letters. The! exclamation character blinked too.

There was a decent sized fenced-in area with a few longhorn steers in it. They gave the place a real Texas flavor, no pun intended, and a distinct Texas smell.

Once inside, the atmosphere was bustling. It was downright loud, everyone competing to talk louder than each other and louder than the twangy live band. The long wooden bar, which stretched from here to El Paso, was packed with patrons vying for drinks. All the tables were taken. There were lassos, branding irons, barbed wire samples, all kinds of authentic and well-used Cowboy paraphernalia hanging on the walls.

There were even kiosks selling Cowboy gear such as hats of various types, T-shirts, flowers for the ladies, et cetera. Although BULLSH! T was most popular with the locals, it had its share of tourists.

And the dancefloor: Lordy mercy it was lively and full. A sea of undulating dancers. An ocean of Cowboy hats moving about like a layer of lily pads on a wavy pond. I've never seen so many people having so much fun. They were moving like synchronized robots, or a single pulsing organism. During line dancing they looked like a multilegged dancing centipede!

Some of the dancers were standout. They embellished the standard choreography with quirks of their own. Some of the dancers were really not very good. But bless their hearts they were tryin'. They were puttin' it all out there for all to see.

I gotta express... the dancin'... ya'll, when was the last time you actually went dancin'? I mean, in real life? You gotta realize: like Tanya alluded to a few days ago: live dancin' is something almost none of us actually do. Hearing live music is nothing like hearing recorded music. The difference is like day and night. The sensation of dancing is nothing like watching a movie or playing a video game. Dancin' sets your soul soaring. It opens your mind to the beauty of life and living. It allows, it arranges, a true literal physical closeness with your partner. When you are dancing, touching your partner, moving in unison or coordinated moves, while both of you take in the live music, there is or can be a melding of your souls. An emotional entanglement. Lust. Love. Lusty love. Loving lust.

Some of the patrons stood around like tree stumps. Not two steppin'; they were tree stumpin'. Like they had molasses stuck to the bottom of their boots which prevented them from moving. They were too afraid to take the chance; to make the leap, to join the dance and better themselves. Woe to them. They belonged on Boot Hill with the rest of the dead folks.

I saw old folks behaving like young folks. Moving and acting out as they did in their yesteryears. I saw people behaving like they were alcohol-possessed. Wild and care-free and uncoordinated. Swiggin' a gulp then swaggin' across the dance floor. I saw couples closing in for the love connection, or at least a hook-up for the night. Or longer.

I took a moment to observe the dancing. I was jealous of the better dancers. I couldn't wait to join them, to join their pack. They were having a blast, each and all of them.

I noted how the ladies were dressed: All of them were dressed to address their willingness or ambition to meet up and/or hook up. And a goodly number of them dressed to sexily impress: to leave no doubt regarding their inhibitions or lack thereof. They were flashing their flesh for all to see, hoping some Cowfolks would take their bait.

The tops of breasts and side-boobage beckoned for spectators. A nipple or two grappled to freedom and visibility. Ass cheeks hung from shorts and short skirts like saddlebags. And anyone who was caught stealing a glance was met not with a scowl but with a smile, or at least an acknowledging smirk.

The men too showed their wares. Bare muscled arms, tight shirts.

Tight jeans. Oh yeah, tight jeans. I could window shop! If I wanted to. So far I didn't want to.

Tanya was well known and well liked at BULLSH! T. She was welcomed by scores of partiers, both male and female.

A group hollered fer us to join them at their table. There weren't seats for us all. They became available as one or the other of us vacated a seat to dance. But at least we all had a place to set our drinks.

We were just about to do our first dance when the live band announced it was a break time. At first the crowd got louder as it continued the conversations amongst the patrons.

But next a lady, a sassy middle-aged barmaid named Patty (as in BULLSH! T Patty) patted a handheld microphone to get our attention. She was about to put on a popular audience participation ritual.

BULLSH! T has this fun gig: Patty would quell the music and announce on a carry-around microphone that she was glad to see us all at BULLSH! T and wanted to know how we were doing that night.

She approached the first patron and asked how he was.

"I went to my truck to go to work this morning and the damn thing had a flat tire!"

'BULLSHIT!" the crowd roared, relaying their opinion.

"That's a tough way to start a tough day, partner! Workin' on the weekend. " Patty added.

She ambled to an older couple. "How's ya'll's date night going?"

"Howdy-Doo, Missus Patty!" they said in unison.

The lady of the couple politely reached for the microphone and said,

"This hunk's ALL MINE."

The crowd : "Aaaaawwww." (As in" Aaaaaawww that's sweet")

"All mine... ALL NIGHT." She said with a sly wink.

"BULLSHIT" we all guffawed.

They gave each other a nice, warm smooch-a-reeny.

"Well bless your hearts."

Patty took the mic to a table with a middle-age group. "I hear, pray tell, that you'd better wash the dirty dishes in the sink first when you get home before you hanker off to bed. What say you?"

The group, both men and ladies, looked at each other and clamored with gusto: "BULLSHIT!"

"Uh-huh. I see. Ya'll got more urgent business than dirty dishes back home."

The crowd laughed.

"Dirty bitches over dirty dishes!" some guy yelled.

"Now be respectful." She replied. "It takes two to do the dirty dance.

"Ya'll think they're gonna wrinkle them sheets later tonight?"

"BULLSHIT!" we opined aloud.

She moseyed over to a table of younger roughneck guys and gals.

"Anything you want to wrangle with us?" She queried.

"The Dallas Cowgirls are going to the SUPERBOWL!" One of them exclaimed loudly.

Patty looked at the floor as she held the microphone in the air and signalled a response from the crowd.

"BULLSHIT!" we shouted.

Patty went to a table with what looked like two shy newbies. Wannabees. The girl was cute. She wore western garb you could tell were freshly procured for this occasion.

"And who do we have blessing us with their presence here?"

"I'm Kimmi. Kimmi with an 'i'. Two 'i's I mean. K-i-m-m-i has two 'i' s. And two 'm's " said the young thang, smiling so purdy.

Patty played along. "Holy guacamole. What did you even say? Something' about 'I got two eyes. And MMMMMmmmmm'."

She raised the mic into the air.

"BULLSHIT!" we roused.

The young male came to Kimmi's defense. "She was saying her name had two 'i's, the letter 'i' as in " 'I' love you." He beamed at Kimmi as he spoke.

"I love you too." she replied with a peck to his lips.

"AAAAWWWWW!" we sympathetically added.

"What is that thang tied around your neck, cuttin' off the blood flow to yer head?" Patty quizzed him.

"It's my bandana!" he responded.

"Your banana?!"

"No... No... You wear a bandana. You eat a banana. Right?" he corrected Patty.

"I eat steak and taters." said Patty.

Everyone laughed, even the young'uns.

"But I see what ya mean." Patty continued. "You can't wear a banana around your neck, and bandits can't conceal their identity by wearing a banana across their nose. But then again you can't eat a bandana. You young'uns, we enjoy havin' ya. Let's buy these two lovebirds a drink."

"BULLSHIT!" the crowd mockingly disapproved.

"Put it on my tab." Patty winked at them.

Patty then spotted us. She knew Tanya as a regular.

"Well now. Here's a tall cool glass of Texas water. Who might you be, Ms. Cowgirl Tall Dark and Gorgeous?"

Tanya politely tipped her hat to her.

"She might be your wannabee dream date." I interjected.

Patty playfully stepped back, as if snake bit.

She gave me a long look from the brim of my cowgirl hat to the bottom of my boots.

"You got that right, Princess. She's been my dream date many-a-times. But only in my dreams, that is."

The crowd OOOOoooooood. They weren't expecting a catfight.

I immediately regretted coming off as such an ass. I had to make up for it.

Patty came back at me. "You like our pet critters out front in the pen?"

"Them are some pretty cows. They're cute." I was pretty sure they were male steers, not female cows, but I wasn't certain. Patty homed in on my uncertainty.

"Would you like to milk one of them cows for us, Sweetheart?"

"Well, I'm not for sure. I...." I was purposely playing the part of a fool. I let her regain the upper hand.

"Sweetness, there are a lot of men who would pay to watch you milk those cows. But you promise to be careful of them long horns. And be mindful of what on them yer strokin', and pullin' and sqeezin' 'til they spurt their milk. You gonna steal a taste of that milk? You name the date. We'll sell the tickets."

Everyone laughed.

I blushed.

Patty enjoyed her victory. She was gracious

"I'm just funnin' ya honey. If you're with my good pard Cowgirl Tanya, you're a good pard of mine."

"Tanya told me all about you and your fun show. It was my distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance, Patty." I held out my hand for a handshake.

"She done worked in the word 'stink' somehow, but it is my pleasure too to meet you. Am I supposed to shake your hand or kiss your ring?"

"Yer castle, yer rules." I said with a smile bigg'r than all Texas.

Patty bypassed the extended hand and went for a heartfelt hug. "Luv ya. You're so pretty. I'm jealous. Ya'll are a good couple. I'm so happy fer ya." she whispered in my ear.

"Yer quite a purdy pony, Missus". She cocked her head at me.

"You know, a pony is not a baby horse, a pony is a small breed of horse, regardless of age!" I excitedly informed Patty.

"Yer dern tootin'," Patty replied. "How'd you know that?"

"I got a real Cowgirl teacher. A fine woman." I looked Tanya in the eye as I spoke, and clutched her hands.

"This here Cowgirl teacher? Yep, she's the best there is."

I damn near cried. I was all teary eyed.

"Yyyyyyaaaaaaayyyyyy!" The crowd roared. What a show Patty gave us. Love her. Gotta love her.

"Yer beamin' so purdy and young and bright! I'ma gonna use the likeness of yer sweet face as the round tittle part of the exclamation point character in BULLSH! T!" Patty said into the microphone.

"I'll be famous!" I replied. "And you said 'tit-tled." I said, chuckling.

Patty rolled her eyes. "Cowgirl Tanya, this filly has spirit. She's a right silly filly. Ya'll enjoy the evenin'. Enjoy yerselves." And with a last wink and nod, she departed.

The band had returned to the stage. "Ya'll ready to scoot yer boots? Let's prance, dance, and move them pants! Let's rodeo!"

Gawd dang I was itchin' to scoot my boots. I was itchin' like a fleabag dog.

"Filly... Bella... I've been waitin' and dreamin' of this all week. You are my Bellissima, the most beautiful. She looked deeply into my eyes. Tanya Cowgirl looked at my cute lil' face. My big, round, adoring eyes. Then she couldn't help but lower his stare to my little proud titties.

" I'm still up here, Cowgirl." I loudly snapped my fingers and motioned to my face. "Concentrate!"

" Oh, I was concentratin'." she said like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

" They're, I mean you're, just sooooo cute, like a lil' plaything. A cute doll. My doll." Tanya said.

We didn't realize we were casting a spell on each other.

Well, let's git to it. Let's romp our rumps!".

I stood up and she took my small hands and moseyed to the dance floor.

I was a little nervous. I was still as straight and thin as a board: No big breast bumps or ass-burls, Just straight and narrow. The difference in our stature and physique was easily noticeable by everyone. One of us was the Alpha, the other the Beta, and we assumed our roles naturally.

As the band began their live music, and Tanya still clutched my hands, the magic engulfed me.

It overwhelmed me. Overpowered me.

My only thoughts were of Tanya. The world shrank to just her and me. I fell into tunnel vision. Tunnel focus. Tunnel sensory. The music had a life of its own. A world of its own.

Everything was good and beautiful. I gave no thought to dancing. I flowed with the rhythm of the beat: It was effortless. My feet, my legs, the movements of my body were all on autopilot. I was hyperaware of feeling joyous. I exuded glee. I was giddy. I was in honky-tonk heaven.

We Texas two-stepped with the best of 'em. We done each other proud. Our line dancing was flawless. It was as though every one of us was simultaneously in their own private world yet connected to all the other dancers... like quantum mechanics or quantum force or whatever.

But what really set my mind to burnin' was the dancin' we did as a couple. We would spin around each other, she holding my hand above us whilst I spun and moved beneath. I twisted and gyrated my skinny ass. I beeped and bopped my agile hips, up and down, side to side. I twirled, I whirled. Tanya dipped me. We both beamed with love and pride.

But then the touching. It was like adding a blowtorch to an already scorching hot summer day. To feel Heaven's exuberance on earth was beyond description, but even it doesn't compare to when it is combined with physical human touching.

I am elated to say that I observed we two, we two females, a couple, were but only two or three dedicated female couples dancin'. And to our great delight, no one, not any cowfolk, male or female, showed any concern at all.

We were all free to be as happy as we wanted to be with whomever we chose as a partner.

I danced forever with Tanya. She encouraged me to dance with a few other guys and gals too. They just didn't do anything for me. I only wanted Tanya. She did not dance with any of the other ladies, or males, although tons of them begged her to. I did dance with a few other ladies. They loved my young, carefree spirit. And youthful, skinny-ass bod. We had a fun time yellin' "Hyah... hyah" like we were each others' horses and smackin' each others' bohineys, hootin' and hollerin' like whores. All of us smilin' bcuz we knew we were gonna get sexed to our hearts' delight tonight. Hell, when the Texas sun comes up in the morning some of us will be still be enjoyin' our sexy ride!

Oh, we had a terrific time dancing. I just don't remember anything except complete superlative joy. The two-steppin', the line dancin', were more fun than I can relate with words. The comradery of dancin' with my newfound friends was amazing. I danced 'til my feet ached. Tomorrow I'll pay for the agony of de-feet. Elation. Exuberance. Exhilaration. A nearness to our ultimate and most exposed being.

Dancin' was terrific fun, and I didn't want it to end until I did: I suddenly remembered that the date, the dancing, was just the appetizer. The succulent main course was another cause celebre.

It really and truly is the most fun you can have movin' with someone, touchin' them all over, with your clothes on.

I need to come to a full-stop for a moment. A cataclysm is about to occur; one which will transform me in a way I never dreamed possible.

All due to a song. And circumstance. And the transformative and uncontrollably strong power of love.

Requited love. Two partners. Two unequal partners. Equal in their love for each other, unequal as to their role with each other. There was a clear leader and a clear follower.

Tanya and I were still on the dance floor. It was wild and raucous out there. Tanya was right at home amongst the loud and energetic crowd. I was, to be honest, intimidated due to my puella-ishness (from Latin 'puella' meaning 'girl' or 'maiden', like 'virgin') smaller build. I was like a cute, beautiful, small, thin sylph in a mass of larger cowgirls and cowboys.

Tanya did well to protect me. I clutched to her larger self.

Then the song.

OMG that song.

The band began playing a sad slow song. "Broken" by Ella Langley. A belly-rubbin' song. I was already emotionally overloaded. I was engrossed with adoration of Tanya. Deepest affection for her. When she put her firm hands about my slim waist I felt mesmerized. When she wrapped her stronger arms around me, pulling my entire body against her, I felt as though I were melting into her, like warm butter melts into hot toast.

I felt as though she were a warm welcoming cloud of safety engulfing me.

She being taller than I, my beautiful girlish sylph face nestled 'neath her chin. I felt every millimeter of my small breasts flatten against her taut torso. I felt her pressing against me through her jeans. We were cosmicly a singular being. A singular soul.

We enraptured physically in each other, the slow song started and we gently swayed to the music.

"Broken" by Ella Langley; (as interpreted and translated by my hearing the song)

'Don't ask if I'm doin' all right

Can we skip all the talkin', Baby?

And don't try to find the right things to say

'Cause the words ain't workin' on me lately.

Tears just fall on a hardwood floor

Gonna wonder why, gonna wonder what for.

Don't ask if I'm doin' all right

Can we skip all the talkin', Baby?

Just let me, just let me, just let me be broken.

Just let me, just let me, just let me be broken.

(mournful) AAAAaahhh, ah--ah, yeah.

One night, Baby, just one night

Let me feel everythang that I'm feelin'

And if it's all right, I'ma let it all out,

I'ma let it all out tonight.

So just let me, just let me, just let me be broken.

Just let me, just let me, just let me be broken.

You and me in the dark, just keep holdin' me tight,

While I'm fallin' apart, Baby just for the night.

Just let me, just let me, just let me be broken. Whoooaaa.

Yeah, you and me in the dark, just keep holdin' me tight,

While I'm fallin' apart, Baby just for the night,

Just let me, just let me, just let me be broken

Just let me, just let me, just let me be broken

Ohhh, don't ask me if I'm doin' all right.

Baby just let go, just for one night.

Just let me, just let me, just let me be broken.

Just let me, just let me, just let me be broken.

Just let me, just let me, just let me be broken.

Just let me, just let me, just let me be broken.'

99.99% of ya'll are gonna read into the lyrics that a distressed lady who's having a relationship dilemma doesn't want her partner to intervene. Doesn't want her partner to stop or diminish the pain. She just wants to be left to her own suffering. To let her herself 'let the poison (and pain) out'. Yes, the partner may provide comfort ('holdin' me tight'), but otherwise just provide the time and distance for the other partner to drain and thus heal herself.

I saw these lyrics so much differently, as though they were written and sang solely to and for me.

In this western, cowboy environment I was familiar with the term 'broken' as it describes a wild horse being 'broke', or 'broken', into domestication or compliance. Wild mustangs and broncos are 'broken' so that they will be useful to humans' purposes.

It, the process of 'breaking' (the spirit) of the horse, is typically viewed as malevolent, possibly tortuous and involuntary; not the type of treatment you would subject to someone (something) you love: just something you want to use.

In my current state of a-daze-ment I was flooded, overcome, with desire to be wanted by Tanya. Meekest Me and Mightiest Tanya. I wanted so much to be accepted by, be subservient to, my Cowgirl Tanya.

I was broken by her. She done took my spirit for herself. Willingly offered by me. To her.

As the song "Broken" played I was overwrought with emotion; the love of, the sensation of, my amorous feelings about Tanya struck me as heavenly beautiful, as heaven-sent.

I wanted to be broken-in for Tanya to enjoy. I wanted the comfort of her control, of her being the lead of us, and I the willing follower. An Alpha-Beta relationship. I didn't want to be Tanya's equal. I wanted to be her handmaiden; her subservient. Her lesser, yet eager, not equal partner, but partner.

I felt that I wanted to serve Tanya so that she could provide for me; provide for me in multilayered ways.

We slowly swayed about, gently moving to the music. I buried my head in her chest. I prayed the song would never end.

I felt a little out of control emotionally, I felt a presence, then a wave, then a surge of extreme joy; extreme peace. It, the emotion of the intense euphoria, swelled up in me in the form of tears of joy.

I was as happy as possible, 'possible' here being a limiting factor, a debilitating factor given my emotional distress. I had a new feeling of being as happy as possible, now the possibleness being more limitless.

I began to sob. Lightly initially, then uncontrollably. I was so stricken with love, of the all-powerful wonderfulness of love.

Tanya could feel my face sobbing against her chest. She could feel my head palpitate as I sniffled and let the tears flow. She lowered her chin against the top of my head., tightening the hold she had on me. I felt her breathing deepen as she comforted me. She too was silently crying. Crying for me. With me.

Those around us could tell something extraordinary was going on.

Tanya, my head still buried in her bosom, scurried us to the ladies' room.

Once inside I let loose. I bawled like a baby. "I love you, Tanya. I'm so sorry I'm actin' like this. I..."

"There, there." she said holding little weak me. Stroking my hair. "There, there. It's alright."

When Tanya did loosen her grip she did not fully release me. She loosened her grip enough to allow me to raise my head and meet her mouth halfway for a kiss. It was indescribable, and it can never be recreated exactly again. It was straight out of a Hollywood romance movie.

The other ladies in the restroom clapped for us. "Ya'll are so beautiful!" They were as happy as we were.

As we neared the restroom door we could hear the murmur of the crowd, but when we opened the door all was silent.

We could see we were being watched.

BULLSH! T Patty announced on her microphone: " Gosh dang, here they be! Look at 'em! Have you ever... ever seen two happier people?!"

The entire BULLSH! T crowd erupted: WWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DOOOOooooooooggggy!"

The love was so thick you had to cut through it with a knife or weed-wacker.

Tanya boldly waved as she held me close and guided me through the crowd.

Time stopped for us.

We were jilted into a new purpose. Dancin' was funtastic, but now my mind was solely set on the next phase of turning fantasy into real funtasy.

Sextacy.

"We gotta giddy up and gitty outa here." Tanya said, holding my still shaking hands.

"Gotta giddy?"

"You heard me Cowgirl. Time to ride."

I was growing horny from the recall of what else we could do to git together tonight.

We said good-bye to all, swigged our last swigs, and hit the trail.

We didn't say hardly nothin' as we departed. We didn't need to talk. We could read each other's mind.

We both sashayed to the driver's door of her pickup. "You gettin'in the same side as me?"

"It'll save me from haven' to scoot over to you from the other side, Cowgirl."

"Yer a bright filly, Bellissima."

She bowed her head with her Cowgirl hat atop and gave me a wet smooch.

"Yer bright like the moon and the stars. Tonight they are ours."

"Poet Cowgirl...." I was fightin' to hold back the tears of joy. "Poet Cowgirl...."

She didn't let me finish. She kissed me again. " 'Nuff squawkin', My Bella."

We didn't travel far down the road before Tanya pulled her pickup over behind a secluded building. It wasn't private; cars still went by every now and then, but it was hidden.

Her pickup, like nearly all trucks now, was a 4-door with seats in the front and seats behind us. I was hangin' on her arm and couldn't wait for the action to commence.

Even before she could put it in park I was all over her. I had already taken off my cowgirl hat and I dislocated her hat when I moved from my seat to be next to her and ambushed her with kisses.

We were two wild animals.

Tanya all but ripped off my thin camisole. It was loose enough that with one single motion and my cooperation she disrobed me of it easily. My small titties were hard. She could, and did, flick and maul my nipples roughly. It barely hurt at first, but any pain swiftly turned to greater pleasure.

"OOOhhhh. Go! C'mon, Cowgirl Baby. Yeah.... rub 'em'"

I begged her to ravish me. To hold nothing back.

She moved her face to my titties and licked and lapped them. She sucked my nipples hard. As she did she moved her hand to my shorts. She roughly squeezed and pushed my pussy through my clothes.

"Take 'em off." she commanded.

"Show me your little tight pussy."

I pulled my shorts and panties off.

"Rub your pussy. Show me rubbing your pussy."

I ran my fingers all about my pussy. In and out of it, around the lips. I flicked my clit. It was engorged and standing proud, ready for a pounding.

My cooch has a nicely trimmed thick carpet of hair forming a short landing strip.

"I like that hair on your pussy. Keep rubbin' it. Get your pussy juice on your fingers and lick your own pussy juice."

I did so.

"You like the taste of your pussy juice?"

I nodded as I swiped my fingers in and out of my pussy then licked the juice.

"You ever taste another girl's pussy juice?"

I nodded "Yes. Once or twice." It was true.

"Fuckin' A. You're a wild 'un."

Tanya's voice was gruff.

"Git on the back seat."

I was naked as I climbed between the two front seats and lay on the rear bench seat. It was large and quite comfortable. I continued rubbing my pussy. I had my first orgasm.

"God Damn!" I yelled as I bucked my pussy against my hand.

Tanya got out of the front of the truck and opened the rear door.

"Git yer pussy over here in my face."

"Lay right on the edge of the seat. Git your fingers and play with that pussy."

I closed my eyes and furiously finger-fucked myself. I knew what felt best and I did it.

Tanya dived face-first into my pussy. She was a masterful pussy-eater. She worked her tongue over my clit, around my labia, and into my pussy. She dove deep.

Slurpling, pinching with her lips, chewing my lower lips.

My pussy was drenched. I could feel it secreting volumes of warm liquid.

She lapped in an upwards motion, guiding pussy juice to my hair patch, then stickin' her nose in my bush while probing my cooch with her tongue. She noisily inhaled my soaked hairy place while gulping my 'gina.

I wrapped my legs around her neck and grabbed the back of her head and mercilessly ground my puss into her face. If I suffocated her, it was for a good cause. She should die happy.

After she knew I came for the second time she removed her face from my vacoochie and told me to step out of the truck. I was nekkid but I didn't care.

Tanya wrestled out of her jeans. She lay on her back on the seat just as I had.

She had a large, pronounced Mons Venus. A Mons I was willin'to fight and die on.

Hairy. Dadgum thick carpet bush. Nothin' else visible, couldn't see no labia lips at all at first. Not until she was properly aroused and awashed with her ladyjuices such that her pussy gaped.

I could just make out her mighty clit, growin', beamin', stretchen' past her hairy nest like the top of the sun as it first invades then conquers the horizon each morn.

Is there such a thang as a 'manly puss'?

Yes there is.

I was an inch from tastin'' it.

Not 'wild 'n wooly'', not unkempt, but rather 'scaped in a rougher style. Lemme get it over with: butch. Yep, Tanya had her a proud Butch Bush.

My mouth was watering like a dog's. I wanted to get to eatin'her so bad. I stupidly gave her pussy a playful kiss.

"Lick it!" she commanded.

I wasted no more time. I opened my mouth and worked my tongue all over and around Tanya's pussy. I wasn't the most experienced pussy eater, but then and there I was the most enthusiastic!

She groaned. I guess I was doin' alright.

I groaned. Groaned in pleasure that I was pleasuring Tanya.

"Here I come Babe!" she grunted as she released wave after wave of juice into my gullet.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" she clamored in wild delight.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I echoed, equally pleased.

We both took a breather. And sat in the back seat. She had left the truck running with the air conditioning on.

"You good at swallerin' gobs of juice?" Tanya teased.

"I'll git good." I answered.

"That's my girl." she smiled.

"That pussy ain't done yet." she winked.

"Neither is that thang." I said, my hand massaging her pussy..

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm." we both harmonized.

Tanya was ready again immediately.

I lay on my back. Tanya wasted no time positioning her pussy above my face.

"RIDE ME, Cowgirl!!!! YEEEEE-HAAAAAAAWWWW!" I yelled with great exuberance.

She bucked and grunted and ground her pussy with wild abandon. She grabbed the back of my head and used my face as her fuck toy.

"God damn, Bella. Lick that pussy!"

"Here cums!" Tanya vigorously rubbed her clit as I tongued her vagina. She squirted wildly.

"WWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEE Doggy! " was her triumphant call.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!" was my reply as I 'gasmed a second time.

My knees were weak. I had taken a palpable sexual pounding.

"C'mere." Tanya said, handing me my clothes to cover with. Not to put on, but to simply put atop my body.

"You were great. You're a real firecracker."

"A real pussy pleaser?" I rephrased.

"Yes ma'am. That you are."

"Oh Cowgirl." I weezed, out of breath. "Ya done broke this filly." "Ya done gave me my best sex ever!"

"Well, then I only added to your young beautiful natural spunkiness." she looked at me proudly. "You and me. We are made for each other. Now here we are."

We gazed at each other. My Cowgirl was so beautiful. Every woman's dream. She was fit. She was great at sex. I was happy, I was honored to be sexed by her, as any and all women were.

She handled me rough. I loved her sexing me all unladylike. She was a special experience, an experience I planned to have often.

"You made this lady's dream sex a reality. How was I in the sex department, Honey?"

"Me and you got a lot in common, Missus. You are a young pretty thang every woman wants to sex."

"Well shoot, Miss sexy boots. You and that camisole, lettin' you little titties bounce around like Mexican jumpin' beans, and those cowgirl shorts, showin' off that fine flatish round firm girlie ass of yours. And that treasure trail of beaver hair you're raisin'. My Gawd, you're fuckalicious! I want to fuck you every day of the week and twice on Sunday. Just to be extra nasty!

"But seriously: I love you, Bellissima. Most beautiful. No other woman deserves you, you being so beautiful, except me. I alone can match your pulchritude with my own. That in addition to my magnificent toughness.

"Gimme a smooch, Cowgirl." I said.

"My pleasure, Darlin'".

We sat silently for a few moments

"You know, Honeybritches, we'll be ridin' each other lots now."

"I'm countin' on it." I started getting horny again. But then I had a great thought come to the forefront of my mind.

Now I gotta break some info to you here. I got some 'splainin' to do.

Remember back yonder while Tanya was doing the yakkin' she mention that she had a not-so-secret advantage when it came to women desiring her for sex?

Well, now that I've done the dirty with Tanya I know what her secret is, other than her great and gorgeous body. It is her sexual style. What is Tanya's 'sexual style that was remarkable and hotly demanded by women. A sexual style few other women can manage and pull off.?

Tanya, when it comes to mating with women, is the epitome of blunt. She is the archetype of cocky, of confident, of self-assured and self-centered. Most women want to be controlled during sex.

Tanya revels in bearing the burden of making sure the sex is great. She orchestrates the activities, relieving her mate of decision making. All she needs to do is follow her lead. Do as she is told.

A lot of times a lot of us women just wanna go with the flow of sex. We want to be manipulated. If we're having a great time, having great sex, working towards our own 'Big O', it's fun and easy to let go, to focus on our own increasing pleasure. Don't wait for ya'll to vote and debate what to do sexually, just let him take the lead. That's the way it works with dancin': It works best with only one person leading. If the lead is happy, you'll be happy too. With the right type of lead. She'll make sure you end as sated as her.

Tanya is that special type of woman. She knows what women want and he knows how to give it to them. She doesn't ask; she acts. She delivers.

What I liked most about Tanya's style of sex is that she takes control. For the benefit of us both.

I like that. I want that.

She didn't make love to me. She ravaged me. Even I didn't know that was what I wanted until she did it. But she knew it. She knew that's what I and most women want: to be controlled, to be freed from decision making and relegated to subservience, to pleasing her and measuring my pleasure by providing hers. She didn't ask " Do you want me to lick your breasts?". She mauled and sucked them ferociously. She didn't ask "Does this feel good?" as she stroked her tongue in and out of my pussy. She just pounded it, savagely, deeply, forcefully, as a wanton animal.

She didn't ask "Want to eat my pussy?" Or "Are you ready to eat me now?" She commanded me to.

Being treated like a lady is great while out in public; being shown respect and affection by your partner is a tremendous turn-on. But in the privacy of sex, when it's just us and our drive to fulfill our basest animal desires, to hell with politeness: give me my fucking buildup and toe-curlin' orgasms!

I was crazed for her sex. My want of orgasms was my sickness and his sex was my cure.

When she finally did finish with me I was like a rag doll. I could barely move. She did ravage me. She completely wore me out and drained me via so many and such powerful orgasms.

I beamed with pride that I was able to satisfy such a macho Cowgirl man. We pleased each other even as we were nothing but two beasts having natural animal copulation.

"It's gettin' late, lovely Cowgirl." I said as I rubbed her shoulders.

"Go ahead and put yer clothes back on... for now. Until we get to my place." Tanya warmly said.

"You gonna put yer boots by my bed tonight."

"Right next to yours, I reckon." I replied.

"We'll roll in the hay some more tonight, then watch a new bright Texas sun come up tomorrow." I was ready to get some more on his luvin' on a proper bed.

"You know, that big 'ole Texas sun is ours alone. Feel like sharin' it with the rest of the world?"

"There is no rest of the world, Darlin. Just we two. We's got each other and that's all that matters."

WWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE doggy!

HAPPY TRAILS, YA'LL!!!