Dee Dee Dunston stood at the long bar in the Dizzy Rooster. She was pretty drunk. A meaty hand clamped down on her arm.
"Let's dance, Dee Dee."
She turned and came face to face with Bo Cantrell. He had a dark face, dark eyes, and a dark mood. He was ugly, and he stunk. She recoiled from his body odor.
"Did you shower after the game, Bo? It is Saturday night."
She yanked her arm free and turned her back on him. Bo expressed his displeasure in his typical vocabulary.
"Fuck you, Dee Dee."
"In your dreams, asshole," she said over her shoulder.
Dee Dee ordered another beer. A big hand grabbed her arm again; she whirled around to tell Bo Cantrell off, but she found herself staring into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
Her knees felt wobbly.
She had grown up on a ranch, which offered little in the way of a social life. When she arrived in Lubbock, she found boys and girls gone wild. Most were from the country, the first time off the ranches and farms and ready to kick loose. Dance. Drink. Screw. God, everyone was screwing like rabbits! Dee Dee Dunston's virginity lasted exactly one week on the college campus. She loved sex. Private sex. Public sex. Wild sex. Sex. Anytime. Anywhere. But only with athletes. Star athletes. Like the one with the blue eyes standing before her.
"Hello, honey. I'm William Tucker."
She gave him her sexiest look and said, "I'm Dee Dee."
But he turned to the bartender to order a drink. The tramp behind the bar was wearing a red silky corset and garter belt and black stockings; she gave him a come-hither look and cooed, "Hi, William." Dee Dee now felt the heat of jealously wash over her lithe body. She fought the urge to strangle the bitch. No one was taking William Tucker from her. She saw his cell phone in his shirt pocket; she took the phone and input her phone number. Then she went to camera mode and held the phone out and snapped a sexy selfie. He turned back to her. She slid his phone back into his pocket.
"I put my number and photo on your phone. So you don't forget me."
He had a blank look on his face.
"What's your name again?"
The bartender bitch heard and giggled. Dee Dee gave her a look like she wanted to kill her. In fact, she did. But she smiled at William Tucker.
"Dee Dee."
"Oh, yeah."
"Here's your beer, William," the bartender-bitch-whore said.
When William turned her way for the beer, she gave Dee Dee a snotty little look. Dee Dee's fists clenched; the bartender-bitch-whore didn't know that Dee Dee Dunston had castrated calves. She wasn't going to let some city slut steal her bull. So she grabbed William Tucker's shirt and yanked him back to her. She jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and gave him a long, wet kiss. He needed no further invitation. His hands cupped her firm butt, and she sat suspended in air. He smelled fresh and manly, and she wanted him desperately. Dee Dee opened one eye to check on the bitch behind the bar; she just smiled and shook her head and walked off.
"Jesus, get a room," Cissy said from behind them.
Without unlocking his lips from hers, William carried her down a short hall past the restrooms and to a dark recess by the back door of the bar. He wedged her against the wall then slid his hand up under her Spandex shorts and around her bottom and between her legs. His fingers found her vagina; he slid one finger up inside her and she gasped and the heat now consumed her. She needed him inside her. She reached down to his waist and pushed her hand down inside his jeans until she found him. Oh, God, he was ready. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
"Fuck me, William," she whispered.
She heard drunken male voices and laughter behind them.
"Coeds in heat."
"Man, get a video of this. That's William Tucker. We'll put this on YouTube, get a million hits."
William obviously heard them too because he reached over and opened the back door, and she was suddenly hit by the cool night air. He lifted her with his other hand, but she still had one hand inside his jeans; she started to fall backwards so she grabbed his arm with her free hand. He jerked.
"Shit, my stitches."
His left arm was bandaged. She hung on to his shirt as he stepped them outside. But either her grabbing his injured arm or the sudden change of temperature cooled his desire—and his erection. Must work like cold water. He lowered her to the ground. But she knew how to ramp up his desire again. She unzipped his jeans and released him and then squatted down and put him in her mouth. Guys went crazy when she did that.
"Hold on, honey," William said. "I left my beer inside. I'll be right back."
He turned and zipped up and walked back inside the bar without so much as a "Thank you, ma'am." She started to get mad, but the heat was all over her.
"Hurry back," she said.
She pushed her tight shorts down and stepped out of them. No sense making him fight his way through Spandex. Damn, where is he? She decided she'd better keep her body revving, so she leaned back against the brick wall of the building and slid her hand down between her legs. She knew how to please herself, something she often had to do with cowboys in Lubbock. She felt herself building to an orgasm when she heard footsteps coming close and saw his massive body in the shadows.
"You're just in time."
Her words came out breathless, but who could talk at a time like this? She wanted to scream.
"Come on, William, fuck me."
The next thing she knew, her face burned like fire from a big hand slapping her. She stumbled back and tasted her own blood, but she managed to stay on her feet.
"You fuckin' bitch! You want to get fucked, I'll fuck you."
She knew that voice and that stink.
"Bo Cantrell!"
He stepped into the vague light, and she saw his angry, ugly face. He unzipped his pants and pulled himself out.
"Shit, I better use a rubber, way you're fuckin' every swinging dick in Texas. You might give me a disease."
He tore open a condom packet and rolled the condom onto his erect penis. He had her boxed into a corner in the back alley. She couldn't run. But she could fight. Dee Dee Dunston had fought bulls and broncos and cowboys. She could sure as hell fight a coon-ass from the swamps. She spit blood and grabbed the nearest hard object—a small brick—and stepped toward Bo and swung the brick up and against his head as hard as she could. He groaned and stumbled back, and she bolted past him, but he grabbed her hair and yanked her back and flung her against the wall. He hit her again, this time a punch to her face, and her head slammed hard against the brick wall, and she felt her legs buckle. She fought to stay on her feet, and to think clearly, but her mind seemed hazy and his voice distant, and she felt his hand grasp her neck and his knee push her legs apart and then his stink suffocated her and pain enveloped her body as he rammed himself up inside her. He pushed his big body hard against her and her head pounded against the brick wall and she felt the air come out of her and now she gasped for air but his hand around her neck tightened with each thrust and she wanted to fight and she flung her arms at him but they seemed limp and had no effect and he thrust into her harder and harder and each time he drove her into the wall and he grunted like a feral hog rutting and Dee Dee Dunston closed her eyes to the pain and felt herself drifting off somewhere else and then she thought of her mom and dad and sister and she …