Chapter 19

I wake, and feel the unusual constriction around my waist then around my face. I wonder for a moment, trying to regain my bearing then blink into the bright November sunshine as it pours through my window. As my eyes adapt to the over-abundance of light I look down and things begin to stir in my memory. Ah, costume! Halloween party, mysterious cowboy.

I must have been so tired when I got in I just collapsed on the bed still clothed, without even drawing the curtains. The light dawns, too damn brightly for my delicate head so I stand up, well on the second attempt I manage it, and pull the curtains together. I shroud my room into comforting shadows once more.

I lie back, my mind spinning, my head throbbing and my stomach feeling like a shook up snow globe but yet, I smile. I have a hangover and my body is completely out of whack with the world, but my heart doesn’t seem to care. I seem to be floating in euphoria. I think it’s euphoria. It’s not orgasmic, it’s not the satisfaction of trouble well set and left behind nor is it the high that is achieved through making it to something I want. I don’t know whether this is just some kind of strange illness, where all kinds of endorphins are racing for my brain while my body slowly dies.

Maybe I’m just not used to drinking so much scotch. Maybe it’s the whiskey that makes it seem like last night’s sex was something out of this world. I’m not convinced though because alcohol tends to make the sexual experience worse not better, and I doubt Scotch has some special ingredient missing in other alcoholic beverages, unless he dissolved a Viagra in mine.

Damn it, however you look at it, last night was bloody good. Fucking good even, amazingly fucking good in fact. Maybe it was the masks, the hidden identity thing. I don’t know who he was, and I’m sure he doesn’t know me either.

This is a bugger becauseI think I could get used to that kind of sex, even if it meant putting this mask on a lot.

I reach round the back of my head and slip the mask off my face. My cheeks feel naked and tingle with the relief of pressure. I wouldn’t mind dressing up if it ended up in that many orgasms each time. I can think of all kinds of man/whore dress ups we could do, from way back when to the modern day. Yes, I’m sure it could work, if only I could meet up with him again.

Now then, if I could remember what his address was I might find him in the phone book, or I could call round out of the blue, but he’d not recognise me, unless I wore my costume, which I could do - a long coat and nobody but me would know. But what if he doesn’t want another round? What if he just rejects me outright, I mean the sex was amazing for me, I dunno if it was anything special for him. It could have been pretty average in his opinion, I just don’t know.

Also, what if I turn up and I see him out of costume and he just doesn’t do anything for me? I mean, I know he’s not massive. He’s wiry and thin, with longer hair than I’d normally enjoy. What if he’s kinda ugly with bad dress sense or something? I couldn’t be doing with that at all, then he might want to fuck me, but I’d not be able to bear it. I guess I’m just going to have to accept it as a one night stand, damn it.

It’s not as easy as I’d like though. All day I thought about him and I mooned about the house on Saturday and again on Sunday, whatever I did, whatever I do, images of him and what he did to me, jump to my mind unbidden. I’m even throwing myself into doing some actual work today and that’s not at all like me. It’s not working either, the minute the problem is solved; the cowboy pushes into my mind again.

I’m not sleeping properly, not eating properly, I’m even grumpier than usual because of this and I can’t stop thinking about the sex we shared. The way he licked my cunt teasing me till I exploded, the way he nibbled my body as he thrust into me, the girth of his cock, how it fitted me so precisely, so rightly, like we were made to fit together.

If the damn images won’t leave me alone, I’m going to have to go round to his house and confront him. At least a rejection or finding an ugly bloke would give me some, oh what do the Americans call it? Closure. That’s it, closure.

I’ll give it a few more days first; the effects might wear off after a bit of time, that’s better than making a fool of myself just to finish this mental torture isn’t it?

Ice cream - it works after a break up, and this has been a break up of sorts, so it should work now. I hope so, because I can’t stand being this scatterbrained for much longer, I can’t focus on anything and that drives me wild.

Maybe I’m sick? Penny asked me if I was OK before, so I went to look in the mirror in the bathroom and I definitely looked sick. Ghostly pale skin, bags under my eyes that a dustman would happily pick up then there was something wrong about my eyes too, they seemed to be all glazed, and dulled. I might have picked up a virus from the masked man, and maybe these thoughts of him are all fever induced. It could be true, I guess.

It never fails, the moment I want to languish in my baggy, tartan pyjamas and just watch trash on TV and eat junk straight from the carton, someone knocks on the bloody door.

“What do you want?” I scowl when I discover Mike on my doorstep.

“To come in, please.”

I sigh and roll my eyes but open the door and sarcastically beckon him in.

“Come on in, sit down, make yourself at home why don’t you?”

“Why thank you, I will.” He grins, and seats himself on the end of my sofa.

“So, why are you here? Not to send me on a further guilt trip I hope. I see Nick in the paper and on the news almost daily now he’s in the jungle with the other has-beens.”

“Oh, no. This visit is nothing to do with him at all. No it’s to do with what happened at Halloween.”

“Erm, what happened at Halloween?” My face is etched with confusion, and he smiles.

“Oh I’m sure you remember ma’am.” he puts on a fake American accent and he sounds just like - no. It can’t be.

“How did you find out about that?” I growl, “Do you know the cowboy guy, did he tell you all about it in the pub the next day? Did you set it all up?”

Questions are rolling round my brain and flowing out of my mouth with the anger that Mike just seems to automatically generate within me.

“No, Caitlyn. It was me. The cowboy was me.” He reaches down into a large bag on the floor and pulls out a battered cowboy hat and a lasso.

“No. It wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been. This is a joke, this is a revenge trick to get me back for losing you your job.”

“Nope, it was me Caitlyn, come on. Think. How did I know your home address without you telling me? Didn’t you hear Sheila talking to me in the hall of her house before we left and surely you picked up on my accent. I dropped the American often enough.”

My eyes stretch wide, my mouth is lolling open and my brain is working overtime.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I shake my head as he nods his and I start to assimilate all this. Maybe he did give me some kind of skanky virus. No wonder I’ve felt so weird since the party.

“I was the rich cowboy, and I’ve brought some more coins in the hope that I could use your services again.” The mock Texan rolls over my senses and the chocolate coins clatter down onto the coffee table.

“No.” I reply standing up and backing away. “No, just no.”

I can’t juxtapose the two images to rest the same. Mike is an annoying stick of a man who has done nothing but drive me crazy since I first met him. He can’t be the mysterious cowboy who gave me the fucking of my life.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he stands up and walks towards me, “but I thought you knew it was me from the beginning.”

“No, I had no idea at all. I thought you were a stranger. I didn’t think I’d meet the cowboy ever again.”

I’m horrified to feel a tear rolling down my cheek, and more horrified when he wraps his arms around to hold me and I recognise the embrace. I feel the same comforting excitement as I did in the arms of my mystery cowboy. I push hard against his chest, my eyes blazing, pushing myself away from him.

“You tricked me, you dirty bastard.” I scream, my hands tightly fisted at my side.

“No, Caitlyn.” His eyes show hurt, like a child who’s been denied a treat.

“Yes, you tricked me; you put on a fake accent, masked yourself and created this persona to entrap me.”

“Oh get over yourself,” he spits, his face hardening. “I did no such thing. I dressed up, went to the party then you came on to me.”

“I came on to you?” I laugh harshly.

“Yes, you started it and I thought you’d forgotten our differences. I was willing to do so too.” Mike snaps back.

“I didn’t know who the hell you were, I’d have not offered my services if I had known.” I throw my hands in the air and turn on my heel not able to look into his burning copper eyes any more, disconcerted by the memories of those eyes in the mask, his body over mine.

Mike’s hand lands on my upper arm and spins me round to face him.

“But you did. We fucked. You sucked my cock, I licked your sweet pussy and you flooded my face with your juices. I fucked you, and you fucked me and I’ve never felt like that before.”

I strain away from his grip, but the fingers tighten, he’s probably bruising me with his grip.

“I know, and it makes my stomach turn.” I growl right into his face, one step away from spitting at him. His lips hit mine before I’m even aware of what’s happened. His mouth encapsulates mine and I try to fight him away but he presses harder against me until my lips buckle under the pressure. I reluctantly allow his tongue entrance where it dominates me, enflaming my blood with lust, which starts to flush out the anger. I begin to melt. I try to struggle away from his strong arms and his demanding kiss but I can’t. He’s holding me to him so tightly I feel he might squeeze me into a tight ball.

I reach up to try and pull him away from me. I grab hold of the back of his shirt, but instead of ripping and pulling him back my rebellious hands lie there and refuses to let me part my body from the anticipated ecstasy.

I can’t remember why I was so set against this a moment a go. A little voice in my mind tries to yell at me “It’s Mike, oh but it’s Mike, you can’t. He’s got no job, he’s annoying. Caitlyn, Caitlyn No!” But the voice whispers away into nothing as I’m carried along by the heat of his kiss, the memory of my cowboy leaping up to the fore- front of my mind. If I just don’t open my eyes and look at Mike I can happily remember it’s my cowboy. I can’t meld the two, though.

This thought stuns me into action and I do manage to pull his body away from me.

“No, I can’t do this with you.”

He waves his arms in the air.

“But you already have, for God’s sake Caitlyn. Why can’t you accept it?”

How do I explain to him how much I’d decided I didn’t like him, how much antipathy I’d built up to him over the last months? I can’t possibly, because it just shouts out as a total lie when compared to the amazing action of the weekend past. How can I hate someone I shared so much ecstasy with?

“Do I have to dress up like a damn cowboy? Do I need to get my mask? Would you be with me then?” He grasps the wisps of hair at the side of his head and growls. “I can’t wait any longer Caitlyn, I don’t just want you, I need you. I’ve gone mad thinking about you. I thought it’d just be a one night thing, but I can’t get you out of my mind. Caitlyn, please.”

I look into his eyes and I can see the depth of emotion there and it tugs at something deep inside me. It frightens me how easily he can make me melt, how he can make me want to fuck him. I don’t like this, I don’t like how I’m floundering, not knowing what will happen next. I don’t like how he seems to know me so well, yet he doesn’t know me at all.

I’m frightened and like a scared dog I bare my teeth and stand my ground.

Shaking my head violently I scream. “No!” I stare at him, seeing that wounded look in his eyes for a second before he strides over to me and slams me up against the wall.

“Stop behaving like a spoilt fucking brat,” he growls and kisses my cheek and my lips. “You want me, I know you do. I can feel it, see it in your eyes.”

I struggle and strain, but he is deceptively strong and keeps hold tight of my wrists, pining them down at my sides while his mouth roams over my face, under my ear and down on to my neck.

“No, no, no. Stop, Mike stop.” I sob out loud, my body torn apart by the arousal and my denial of it. I don’t know what to do. His lips ignite me and I want to be with him, I want to give in and just go with my instincts but everything that I’ve built up to keep me safe from the world is straining to keep Mike well away from my vulnerable heart.

“No, I’m not going to stop. I know you don’t want me to, your body is craving for me. Just listen to it, listen to your body.” He nibbles my neck and I strain to move my hands.

“Oh, we’re not going to get anywhere like this.” He pulls me away from the wall and drags me by one wrist towards the bedroom, scooping up his bag on the way.

I slap his hand with my free one, then try to pry his fingers apart, but he squeezes me tighter.

“Ow, Mike, no, not in there. No, Nobody goes in there but me, Mike no!” But he clicks open the bedroom door and drags me in.

“Oh stop your whining, it’s a bedroom. It’s made for fucking.”

Yes, it’s a bedroom, yes I know it’s where most people fuck, but I don’t. I just don’t like people going into my room. It’s my private place, reserved only for me, and now Mike is stood in the middle of it, tainting it with his personal vibes.

He pushes me down to the bed then straddles my waist, both my hands clasped in one of his at the wrist. With the other hand he picks up the flexible lasso, and winds it round my wrists and the metal of the brass bed head. He leans up and watches me struggle to get free.

“Right.” He exhales, slipping down my body, holding my legs together between his strong thighs. His fingers work open the top button of my pyjama top, then move down to the next one, until the buttons are all open and he pulls the tartan material apart, revealing my breasts, I’m rather distressed to notice my slutty nipples are already erect. He must have noticed it as well. His lips descend to suck upon them.

“Mike!” I gasp. It’s meant to be a protest, but I just love what he’s doing to me. Damnit, I can’t deny it. He excites me in a way no other man has ever done before. He makes my body tremble with just a glance. His lips only have to touch any part of my skin to make my pussy shudder with sexual pleasure.

Even the constriction of the lasso holding me to the bed turns me on. I’m completely at his mercy. It’s frightening to be this out of control, but like a rollercoaster ride, the adrenaline of fear is giving me such an amazing buzz that I can’t stand it.

As if he understands I’ve come to some kind of agreement with myself, he slips himself between my legs, kissing my stomach, making me giggle when he dips his tongue into my belly button. Grasping the elasticated band in both hands he pulls down and I lift up my bottom off the bed, to aid him, definitely showing I’m not going to protest any more.

He looks at me and once the trousers have been pulled off my legs he lets out a shuddering sigh.

“I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want, Caitlyn.” He slips his hands down the side of my body, resting it on my hip. “So if you don’t want this to go any further just tell me now. I’ll untie you and leave.”

I don’t speak. My tiny internal danger alarm screams at me to shout up, all the reasons for not letting him near me running round and round my brain but I still don’t speak. I can’t give up on this kind of ecstasy. I’ve got to go further, I’ve got to find out why it happens, how it happens and if it was only a one off. Curiosity may have killed the cat but I’m giving in to mine, I can’t possibly do anything but.

His hands leave my skin and he moves off the bed. I wonder if he might unstrap me but the sparkle in his eye tells me I won’t be released. I’m not sure what I feel about that, I don’t know if I like this, but I know I don’t hate it. It’s uncomfortable, it’s unknown territory, but I am still excited, aroused and salivating at the sight of him undressing.

His chest is well defined, a surprise for his frame, his shoulders are broad and sexily curve down into his sparsely haired muscular chest. His stomach is firm, but with a little curve of fat goodness. I like a bit of flesh there as a pelvis bone grating against me is not at all arousing.

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans. I run my tongue over my lips, watching the trousers slide down his tight thighs and over his masculine calves. His boxers follow dropped casually to reveal the bobbing bulge beneath.

It looks just as magnificent in the less forgiving artificial lamp light as it did in the candle lit splendour of Halloween. He picks a condom from out of his pocket and slides it effortlessly over his cock. I enjoy the visual feast as he strides over to my bed and lies down beside me. He strokes from my chin over the curve of my breast and down my stomach to my thigh.

His lips grasp my earlobe and pull, eliciting a soft moan for the discovery of a new erogenous zone. His mouth continues down the side of my neck, to the cup of my collar bone and onward. His weight shifting he reaches over and tastes my breasts, one hand manipulating one, whilst his teeth torture the other.

I feel it all at once confining and liberating to be unable to move my hands. I can’t direct his movement. I can’t touch him or give him pleasure. I just have to lie here and take it. All I can do is concentrate on my pleasure, that’s a great joy. He kisses on over my stomach and into the down of my pubis. I know where he’s going and arch up my hips, spreading my thighs and inviting him in, letting him know that I want him, the keening noise letting him know that I need him.

He drops lower covering my folded lips with tight lipped kisses then his tongue wriggles out and parts me before lapping up and down, mopping up the pooling liquid therein. I wriggle and writhe lifting myself up to him, offering him the pearl of my pleasure. I yell my delight when he grasps it and sucks with just enough pressure to flood my cunt with ecstasy, the spasms shaking me from tip to toe.

“I want you.” he growls, coming up from between my thighs, his lips and cheeks shining with my juices. Slipping up and over my breasts he kisses me, and the taste of me on him excites me further, I lick and suck at Mike’s lips, taking my nectar from him while he gently injects me with his cock. The perfect medication for the burning fever inside me.

“Oh, fuck yes,” he hisses, his body rocking to and fro. “Oh, I’ve needed this Caitlyn. You drive me crazy with lust. You’re so fucking sexy.”

I blush, his compliment means a lot to me now that I have accepted him as my mysterious cowboy. Obliterating all other opinion from my mind I go on all I have discovered in the last few days. This is a man who arouses me to such heights, to such pleasurable pinnacles that I can’t think of anything else, and my body craves him.

Thrusting rapidly he kisses my cheek, my neck, my chest.

“Yes.” I groan, “Oh God, yes, Mike!” Speaking his name jars me for a moment but not in a bad way, in a way that excites me further. He’s no longer a mystery; he’s a real life person, accessible and willing. He wants me. How can it be a bad thing?

His name spurs him on and I know this won’t last much longer but I don’t care. I just want to feel him explode inside me, the feel of his pleasure gives me joy and as odd as it seems to me, my orgasm is not what matters here. Though the repetitive pounding of him thrusting hard into me is tickling my clit and making my cunt tingle with heat.

“Oh God, Caitlyn, yes!” Mike forcefully thrusts over and over again panting and hissing his pleasure. He slams his cock into me and shakes with orgasm. He thrusts again and again forcing it deeper and deeper into my body.

Before rolling off Mike unhooks his knot and lets my arms fall from their imprisonment. He rolls over to the side of me, and strokes up and down my body. He nibbles on my ear. I snuggle closer to him, enjoying the feel of his hard hand gliding over my soft curves.

I gasp in surprise when he strokes down to my pussy then groan with delight as the fingers dive down the soft slick slit. I’m amazed by his sure stroke. A single finger circles my nub making me mewl and keen into his shoulder, my teeth biting into his flesh as I explode.

“You wicked woman.” he whispers.

“What?” I look at him, puzzled and he picks up my hand in his, and places it on his crotch. “You’ve gotten me all excited again.”

I giggle and squeeze his cock, slipping my hand up and down it’s length. “I think I can do something with this.” I continue to wank him, my hand smoothing up and down his shaft, my fingers pressing at the base and smoothing up its softly distended length.

I am rewarded with a throaty growl for my efforts and I smile in satisfaction, or is it dissatisfaction? Even with the orgasm of a few moments ago I can feel the heat of sexual arousal coursing through my veins. I let go of his cock then come to my knees on top of the bedspread. I kiss him like I’m drowning and sharing his oxygen. My lips trek over his face up his nose, across his brow, down one cheek and up the other then down the slim, sexy line of his neck.

I reach out and open my bedside draw. I pull out a condom and pause in my kissing while I unroll it. I continue my ministrations and slip the condom on before I swing my leg across his middle, and using one hand I grasp him and glide him up and down my wet slit.

His moans are highly rewarding so I do it some more, up and down I sweep his erection, every time it touches my sensitive clit I writhe and spasm with the tingling pleasure that radiates through me.

“Please, please, please.” he moans, his eyes shut tight, his face a mask of erotic tension and sexual want. I press him against my opening. Gently and maddeningly slowly I press him into myself. Enjoying every moment of the delicious stretching, revelling in this slow filling up, until he is stuffed inside of me.

Throbbing he sits there, waiting for me to move my body. He reaches out and grasp my hips, his fingers dig into to me and slowly I move, holding myself at the top of my arch, his cock just inside of me, its tip sitting in my warm juices. I hold it for a few seconds and watch his head thrash from side to side before I slide down again, in to the hilt.

I drop and rise three times slowly, oh so slowly before I cannot take any more of the teasing myself and begin to move my arse in a rapid-fire bouncing movement. I enjoy watching his face contort, the rapid change from oh too slow to fast, fast, fast is like sensual torture, sending his synapses into overdrive.

“Oh Fuck.” His eyes flutter open and his gaze meets mine. His mouth is held in an “o” of a moan and I drop to kiss it, nibbling on the bottom lip, my gaze locked on his, feeding off the lust between us. I close my eyes when the flooding pleasure becomes too much and I reach the peak of orgasm without effort, almost without realising. It hits me like a punch, and I pause in my movement, just my pussy muscles clenching and spasming around him as I come.

Panting from the ecstasy, I begin to move, up and down again, keeping a steady, cantering pace. My heart thudding and thumping, my clit stinging deliciously at each contact with his skin. Mini orgasms wrack my body as his cock rides up and down my sensitised tunnel.

From his moans I know he’s close to coming again, his face red with the strain of impending release. The sinews in his neck stand out proudly as he lifts his hips and body to meet me, to exert more and more pressure where we bang together before we recoil, only to bang together once more.

Slapping flesh sounds carry under the panting and moaning. His lips moving without issuing sound. I ram my body down onto him with all my strength. On the second such stroke he yells, his shoulders pulling up off the bed, his face scrunched up in the agonizing ecstasy of orgasm. His hands clamp around my waist and hold me still as his dick spurts inside of me. We hold like that for a moment then relax. I slip my leg over him and slide to his side, my legs tingling, my pussy throbbing contentedly.

His arm rests under my head and I curl up into his shoulder. He wraps himself around me until I am face to face with him in a strong embrace. My hands are pinned to my sides, my eyes inexplicably wet with tears.

“Thank God you only cost me chocolate coins, otherwise I’d be bankrupted paying for your services.”

I chuckle and kiss his wide grin.

“Damn, you’re good woman.” he sighs, kissing my forehead, “I think I’m addicted to you.”

I flush with pleasure, then bait him. “Addicted? After we’ve fucked twice?”

“Three times.” He grins. “You’re highly addictive. I was a goner from the first kiss.”

“I just think you don’t have the balls to resist me.” I crow, my smile covering all my face.

“My balls don’t want to resist you. They’re as addicted as the rest of me.”

I laugh and slap his chest playfully, enjoying this post-coital moment. It’s funny, I’ve never had this kind of intimacy before but now I’m expecting it, needing it, almost but not quite more than I need the orgasms that come before.

“Caitlyn, have you really never let anyone in your bedroom?”

I look at him and shake my head against his arm.

“No, never. It’s my personal space.”

“I’m sorry for invading it.” He says solemnly.

I shrug my shoulders, “Don’t worry about it.” Suddenly it seems like a very silly childish thing to have done, and I don’t see why it was ever such a big issue.

He kisses me and smiles. “I didn’t come here to force myself on you, really. You’ve driven me mad, to the point I just had to give in. I resisted all the way you know.”

“Pardon?” I grin, wondering what he means.

“I was very annoyed at myself for enjoying our sex so much it was meant to be a revengeful one night fuck, but no, you were so damn good I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

“Of course I was so damn good. You were the surprise. I was contemplating coming round just out of the blue to see you, maybe even wearing my whore’s costume.”

“Really?” His eyebrows rise. “I’d have liked that.”

I stifle a yawn. “I really had no idea it was you, though.”

“Well, yes, I kind of worked that out. Anyway, I should leave you to sleep, it’s late.”

“Thanks.” I smile, cuddling him close then releasing him away from my body. “Do you want to go out on Friday?” I ask lifting up the bed clothes and sliding underneath.

“Yeah, cool.” He smiles.

“Vincentios - my treat.” I yawn, closing my eyes.

“OK, see you at seven, yeah?”

“Seven’s good.” I mumble, feeling his lips brush my cheek.

“Night.” he whispers then I hear the click and bump of my bedroom door shutting, and the heavy thump of the front door closing behind him.