Blowing Off Steam Page 12

  Just as she was sighing and swooning against him like the heroine in a romance novel, a banging directly behind his head brought Field back to reality. They broke their kiss with shocked gasps, Calliope with her hand held to her heart.

  “Goodness!” she declared, stepping away from Field. He now saw she wore delicate heeled slippers with red silk flowers between her exposed toes. The elongation gave her the look of an erotic crane, and he briefly wondered what she’d look like balanced on the chair back while he took her from behind.

  “Field, you old dog!” Rushy yelled from the other side of the door, his voice rising above the racket of the saloon crowd.

  “Oh. I forgot.” Field put his hand on the knob. “Rushy was outside, waiting with me.”

  “He’s been waiting this entire time?” Calliope exclaimed. “Why, let the poor man in!”

  Rushy closed the door and fell against it. “Thanks. I was being bored to death by some gabbers who would not dry up.” Exhaling, he rubbed his hands and looked around expectantly. “So what’s up? Is our…” He looked sideways at Field. “Our ofuyung plan all right with Miss Calliope?”

  Field started to answer, but Calliope cut him off impatiently. “Yes, yes,” she said, going to Rushy and playing with his cravat. A pang of jealousy hit Field’s stomach, sickening him. He was the one courting Calliope, but she’d developed such an easy, playful, sexy rapport with Rushy. And Field could hardly prevent her from touching Rushy when he couldn’t keep his hands off the pilot himself. That was the rub—he understood Calliope’s attraction to the man. Last night, with Rushy’s cock convulsing under his hand, Field had been imbued with a fresh sense of power. Merely by squeezing and massaging the meaty length of that tool, Rushy had become so hot he’d discharged inside his own trousers, and that stimulating power had further enflamed Field. Back in his stateroom, he would’ve frigged himself, but his eyes were shut before he even fell into his bunk.

  So now, as Calliope tossed Rushy’s necktie to the floor alongside his own, Field tried to stifle the jealousy. He, too, wanted to slide the velvet frock coat from Rushy’s powerful shoulders and fling it on the bunk. He, too, wanted to slip the buttons of his shirt and paw the muscular pectoral. Field went to stand close to the couple, to ensure Calliope was undressing the pilot correctly. He assisted by unbuckling the gun belt and placing the holster on the washstand. A tall oval mirror on its own stand nearby intrigued Field. From the front, the tantalizing line of hair furrowed down the middle of Rushy’s lean abdomen, disappearing beneath his broadfall. But in the mirror, the exquisite slope of his lower back was evident, his muscular hindquarters tautly flexed.

  Calliope was saying, “Yes, something about corpses? Whatever—I’m sure you fellows made a smart deal.”

  “Well, you have to understand this whole corpse business,” said Field, sliding the shirt down Rushy’s arms. “It’s not half as morbid as it sounds.”

  “Right,” said Rushy. “The ofuyung will just be stuffed inside their body cavities.” Once the shirt joined the pile on the floor, Rushy’s hands were up in the shape of melons, heading for Calliope’s chest.

  “No touching!” Field snapped automatically, slapping Rushy’s hands away.

  “Yes, no touching,” Calliope agreed, amused. She shot Field a look that he interpreted as loving, and his heart swelled.

  But Rushy was not easily placated. He confronted Field with hands on hips. “Why no touching? Yesterday we both squeezed those monumental titties. Greased her up, punished her. Why on a sudden are we smack and smooth out of sharing?”

  “Mayhap you’re the one who needs punishing now,” said Field, swooping down to grab one of the cravats from the pile. He had no idea what he was aiming at, but the idea stimulated him so intensely his cock strained at his buttons. Last night when Calliope had pinioned Rushy’s hands behind his back, Field had been so steamed he’d near about shot in his own trousers. There was something about a masculine stallion of a man helplessly bucking at the bit that really put the hook in Field.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Calliope as Field shoved Rushy to a coat hook in the wall. Calliope whisked the garments that hung from the hook, and Field commenced binding Rushy’s wrists behind his neck with anchor hitch knots. “This fellow thinks he can just maul me whenever the mood strikes him. What do you say, Field? Shall we show him what it feels like to want to spend but not be allowed to?”

  She was at her valise shuffling around for something as Field cinched Rushy’s wrists to the hook just slightly above his head. Field admired the way Rushy’s cock and scrotum filled his broadfall admirably, already inflamed by their bawdy talk. Field couldn’t resist sliding his hand down the hot, tight abdomen to cup the bulging crotch in his hand. The massive bull’s penis twitched when Field tickled it with his thumb.

  “Yes,” Field said steamily against Rushy’s splendid underarm that radiated wood and cigar smoke, manly scents he’d never known made him hot. Field buried his face in the silken hair of the hollow while squeezing the jutting tool, and he licked and nibbled at the velvety spot to stimulate Rushy even more. Gooseflesh rose on Rushy’s arms and chest, pebbling his nipples. The sight roused Field to pinch the nipple, making Rushy gasp, but Calliope now slapped Field’s hand away.

  “No touching!”

  She echoed his own words, so Field had to retreat, content to merely tickle the silken underarm with his fingertips.

  “Listen,” Rushy said huskily, his voice drenched in the saloon’s cigar smoke. “I’m not a fellow as can take much abuse.” Was Rushy faking the tremor of fear in his voice? “I ran away from school when the headmaster beat me with a ruler.”

  What was Calliope doing? She posed before Rushy in her salmon-colored dressing gown, one hand atop the braids piled on her head, the other on her hip. “Oh, we’re not abusing you, my little tadpole.” She ran her palms up her stomach to cradle her own juicy titties in her hands, her breasts so bursting they nearly popped from the confines of her corset. “We’re just giving you a taste of your own medicine.” She posed like a burlesque dancer, in profile, so Rushy could get an eyeful of her uplifted bosom.

  Field was agape at her brazenness, too. Didn’t she realize she was torturing him as much as she was Rushy? Field’s own dear wife Victoria, a Puritan from Pennsylvania, had never touched herself in any manner. That he knew of. Then again, her dressing gown was of dark blue flannel and underneath she wore another long flannel toilette. And if Victoria had seen this flashily colored striped corset, she would have thought it was a table centerpiece.

  “Oh, land’s sake,” Rushy groaned, squirming like a fish on a hook. “No, Calliope. This is torture, of the worst sort. Please, Field. Take out my cock.”

  Field’s hand delved into the humid depths of Rushy’s crotch, and he nearly groaned himself when he wrapped his fingers around the stiff root of the prick. His other hand unbuttoned the broadfall to allow the drooling cock into the air.

  “Field, please,” Rushy pleaded. “Stroke me. Do something. I can’t watch that vixen touch herself. I’ll go loco.”

  “Oh, you’ll be touched, all right,” said Calliope as the pink gown sleeves slid to her elbows. With hands on hips, she turned to allow Rushy to see her bare back, and she wiggled her ass like a giant plumed bird. Balancing her chin coyly on her shoulder, she added, “Touched in the head.”

  Rushy squeezed his eyes shut as Field plunged his fingers into the bushy thicket of hair at the base of his prick. Field didn’t know Calliope’s aims, so he was afraid to do more than nuzzle the long erection at the juncture of his fingers. Her aim became clear when she materialized a long white plume from the bodice of her corset. She brandished it like a magician, swishing it about in the air while crooking her finger for Field to approach.

  He reached for the ostrich plume, but Calliope held it fast in order to glide her palm over his hip and take a big squeeze of his pulsating cock. Field gasped to finally feel her touch, and he hoped she wasn’t disappointed tha
t his cock wasn’t quite as monumental as Rushy’s own horse’s tool. Balancing himself by gripping her powdery, bare shoulders, he arched his pelvis into her hand.

  “Does that make you hot?” she asked with an effective combination of sweetness and filth.

  “Of course it does,” he said breathlessly.

  “Not this,” Calliope said, clutching his cock so skillfully he thought he might faint from lack of air. “I mean Rushy. The first two times I watched you, you were sucking each other’s tongues. The second time, Rushy stroked your cock until you ejaculated in his hand. Does it make you hot, looking at his beautiful, manly body?”

  Field could admit no such thing, so Calliope held the ostrich feather further back. “Now, now. I’m not going to give you this feather until you say it aloud.” Yet she squeezed his prick even more fervently, using the ball of her palm to massage the bursting glans, like he’d done to Rushy last night. “Say it, Field. Say you love looking at Rushy’s beautiful…long…thick…erect cock.”

  Field gulped heavily, wishing he had something to drink. All in a rush, he said, “I lust after his long thick prick and wish I could suck it down my throat.” There! This masterful hellcat he was in love with! She tortured him into admitting shameful things he would never admit to a wall.

  When he opened his eyes, her shapely mouth was curled into a smile. “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?” She tickled his lower lip with the white feathers then handed him the plume.

  Now that he could breathe, he whipped the plume from her hand and, crushing her ass in his other hand, jammed their pelvises together. Why should he not torture her? He kneaded the entire length of his prick directly over her pubic mound and licked those wet strawberry lips. Over her shoulder, he could see Rushy’s reflection in the mirror, cock taut at attention, turning purplish from craving, hips straining forward. “It’s not difficult to admit I desire someone who is so…utterly desirable,” Field said ambiguously.

  Kissing her, he ripped the light pink gown from where it hung at her elbows, leaving her nude aside from the corset, turquoise stockings, and those infernal heeled slippers. He slapped her bare ass as her headmaster must have done, causing her to jump and her eyes to shine. He gathered her to his crotch again, only this time he bent at the knees and snaked his long fingers from behind into her slimy crack, gratified to feel her pussy juice drip over his fingers.

  “Oh,” Calliope said with wonder as his fingers performed an eager glissade past her slit to her button. “Oh!” She jumped a full foot when he struck the swollen, distended clitoris.

  Again there was a jealous twinge in his stomach. She’d best not be this wet for Rushy. To ensure this, he diddled her slimy button with dexterity as she fairly climbed up his thigh, emitting tiny, feminine gasps. “Engineers are nimble,” he said slyly before diving in to take a large slurp from her bosom.

  “Oh, dear God!” she cried. “Field!”

  “Hey!” Rushy bellowed. “Ah, I’m over here? You’re torturing me pretty nigh into fits here.”

  But Field’s mouth was plastered to the valley between Calliope’s ample titties, his fingers describing all manner of Arabian symbols to the sides of her elongated clitoris. What did he care for Rushy? Let him stand there tied to a coat hanger, his beef bobbing there stupidly, pants around his ankles.

  “Ah!” Calliope cried in an impossibly high pitch as he struck a particular nerve. But she stamped her little heels firmly to the deck and shoved him away with both palms flat against his shirtfront. “Not yet!” she huffed, panting and shiny-eyed. “What do you think that plume is for? Go, man, go!” She pointed at Rushy.

  All right, if that was the way it was, then! Like a stubborn youth, Field approached his erect partner. Seeing the pleading, vulnerable cast to Rushy’s chiseled face, Field reveled in his power again. If neither he nor Calliope could gain satisfaction before this lummox did, well, he would wield that power to the utmost!

  Field leaned on the bulkhead next to Rushy and casually tickled just the very purple tip of the penis. His other hand slapped the muscular haunch he so admired, and Rushy gasped at the sudden pain and pleasure. Field took his cue from Calliope when he said salaciously, “You like this, don’t you? Having your big horse’s cock tickled with this feather? You’ve got a big, juicy prick. But you know that, don’t you? How many other men have you tormented with this juicy, long horse’s cock, partner?”

  “Plenty,” Rushy said perversely.

  Actually, it was Field who was drooling over the sight of the twitching prick. Only knowing it jumped at his behest kept Field from going over the edge and falling to his knees to inhale the delicious appendage. Field stroked the full length of it now with just the barest whisper of plumage as Rushy’s hips pumped the air. Field slapped the ass again. It was glorious to feel the resonance of the haunch muscle under his hand, to hear the full, meaty sound of his palm striking the heavenly flesh.

  Was it his imagination, or was Rushy spreading his feet farther apart on the deck? Field aimed his next slap more squarely between the ass cheeks, and his fingertips grazed the full, taut balls. Damnation, if he could just fling this able-bodied buck across his lap and slap that bouncing ass into submission! He would probably shoot his own load first. “You like sucking on men’s cocks, don’t you, you depraved sodomite?”

  Rushy said through clenched teeth, “I love sucking cock.” He flashed his hazel eyes at Field. “Which you’d know better than anyone…you twisted poof.”

  This accusation both aroused and angered Field at the same time. Now he humped Rushy’s naked hip with his own clothed erection, and when he slapped the tight scrotum, his fingers lingered to fondle the full ball sac. Alternately slapping and then stroking between the powerful thighs brought out a sheen of sweat on Rushy’s forehead, and Field leaned in to nip his earlobe. “And do you enjoy screwing other men up the ass?”

  “God, yes!” Rushy exploded. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Field replied, trying to maintain his cool. But damnation, he just wanted to frig that equine penis! He’d only witnessed Rushy ejaculating once. That was between Calliope’s teats, and he didn’t have much of a hand in that. How far would this glorious buck shoot his semen with his cock in Field’s massaging fist? “But I’d like to climb between your beautiful thighs and fuck you up the ass.”

  Field was afraid he was becoming hotter than Rushy, so he wetted his middle finger with spittle. On his next slap, he stroked the anal sphincter while Rushy shuddered mightily and rotated his hips as though to jam the finger in tighter. When Field inserted the finger up to the first knuckle, Rushy cried out with eyes squeezed shut. Field, not knowing if it was a cry of pain or pleasure, sunk the finger in to the next knuckle and diddled the slick walls. Rushy panted rapidly, his face screwed up.

  “How about that?” Field whispered in his ear. “Do you like that?”

  Rushy whimpered something that sounded like, “I’ve never—” but Calliope was approaching them with authority, tightening another silk necktie between her fists.

  Field was so dumbstruck by her figure his finger slipped out of his partner’s asshole, and Rushy sighed. Like a domineering seductress she was, brandishing yet another bond, one eyebrow quirked up—as though anyone would question her aims.

  “Now,” she stated flatly. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson, you twisted deviant.”

  “Calliope, please,” Rushy begged. “I’ve definitely learned my lesson. Just let Field suck my prick. Or you do it. I don’t care.”

  “I don’t think so.” Calliope whipped the necktie around Rushy’s heavy, firm penis, cinching it around the base. It looked very tight, and the heavy penis pulsed with Rushy’s heartbeat.

  “Oh,” Field said mildly. “She’s wicked.” He tickled the tip of Rushy’s purple, quivering cock with the ostrich plume, and it shuddered so wildly even the chock-full ball sac shivered.

  “If you keep this up,” Rushy said in an odd, high tone, �
�the jism is going to back up into my brain and flood it!”

  Calliope burst out in a tinkling round of laughter. It was made all that more ominous by the next item she brandished. It was shaped like a deer horn, only squatter and rounded at the tip, with tiny little Chinese characters sprinkled all over it. “You’re only going to wish your brain were flooded, my little tadpole.” Stepping between the washstand and Rushy, Field watched avidly as she pressed her fingers into a tin of bear grease and slathered the object, which Field had now determined was ivory, a horn of sorts.

  Rushy looked at it with apprehension. “Oh, damn it all to hell,” he said, defeated.

  Cheerful now, Calliope slapped his ass, too. “Oh, you got more than you bargained for when you punished me, little boy. I’m the queen of punishment.”

  “That’s right,” Rushy breathed, “you’re probably extremely experienced at punishment.”

  Her eyes flashing with what appeared to be true anger now, Calliope slapped his ass again and again. “I’ll give you experience.” Her hand that held the object vanished between the bulkhead and Rushy’s ass, and when Field peeked around Rushy’s side, he could see she’d positioned it just at his rectum. “I’ll wear you into a frazzle, my little tadpole.”

  She screwed the thing in, not mindful of tenderness as Field had been, and Rushy actually cried out. But again, Field couldn’t tell if it was from pain or pleasure. Her other hand batted away Field’s ostrich plume, and of all of the damned things, she began to slap Rushy’s poor laden cock!

  How he twitched and turned then, as though trying to get out of his bonds! But his swiveling of his hips only seemed to screw the horn into his ass farther, and his keening howls seemed to be authentic. Why was Calliope so angry with poor Rushy?