Inn on the Edge

by Gail Bridges

  “You’re so small,” he murmured.

  “And you’re so hairy.”

  He snorted softly. “That I am.” He was silent for a moment. Then he spoke again. “Angie. You’re sweet. Very sweet.”

  I played with the hair surrounding his right nipple. “That’s what I was going to say about you.”

  He kissed my neck. We lay in each other’s arms, relaxed and sleepy, satiated. We fell silent, enjoying each other and our light-streaked little room in our private little ghost town.

  “Look,” he whispered.

  The outlaw and sheriff had pulled out another blanket, undressed, and were busy giving each other blowjobs in perfect sixty-nine position. The mountain man and I smiled at each other and snuggled even closer. He pulled my crumpled buckskin skirt back down over my legs, tugging it straight. I felt his hand running down my thigh, over and over, a light caress. If I were a housecat, I’d have been purring.

  I might have dozed. I’m sure I dozed. Because when I awoke, all three of them—the outlaw, the sheriff and the mountain man—were sitting on the other blanket, naked but for their Storybuilder pendants. They were staring at me.

  The outlaw was grinning.

  “Woman,” he said, “I just won you in a game of dice.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Come to me,” he said.

  Willing little Indian maiden that I was, I went.

  “Kneel.”

  I crouched on my knees in front of a serious-faced outlaw. He stared at me, inspecting his winnings, studying my breasts, my puckered nipples, the curve of my shoulders. Then he put his finger under my chin and lifted it. Frowning slightly, he turned my face from side to side. “Running Deer,” he said quietly, “I have plans for you. Big plans.”

  I looked at him from under long eyelashes. I shivered.

  “Stand up,” ordered the outlaw.

  I rose from my knees and stood in front of him. The sheriff and the mountain man looked on.

  “Take off the rest of your clothes.”

  I fumbled with the laces and ties and loops on my buckskin skirt. The outlaw watched, tapping his finger on his leg. Finally the skirt dropped to my feet and I stepped out of it.

  The outlaw sat up straight. “Yes. You’ll do,” he breathed.

  I’d do? What the hell?

  Where was the Logan from earlier? The Logan I’d flirted with during meals? The Logan I’d kissed and fondled and laughed with? This Logan—Logan the outlaw—was a different person altogether. Was it all an act? Was he simply playing his part in our shared fantasy with the do this, do that?Or did Logan—the real Logan—have hidden depths I was unaware of? Because he was bossing me around like he really did own me.

  And I rather liked it.

  I’d never been bossed me around as foreplay before. Certainly not by Josh. I gazed at the outlaw, biting my lip, thrilled and astonished, feeling all wet and squirmy again…and so soon after my interlude with the mountain man! I was making all sorts of new discoveries about myself. First the hair thing. Then the lesbian thing. Then those marvelous, marvelous apexes. And now this?

  Apparently so.

  “Let me see you. All of you,” the outlaw said. With a long finger, he motioned for me to turn around in place and I complied, spinning in a circle. I stood in the chilly room, quivering with anticipation—a prize won in a game of chance. I was on display. No. I was naked and being displayed. There was a difference.

  And I liked it.

  “Turn around. Let us see your ass.”

  I turned my back to him and thrust out my butt. I heard murmurs of appreciation. I’d almost forgotten about the others.

  A low whistle. It was the outlaw. “Nice. Now spread your feet and touch your toes.”

  I sucked in my breath and bit my lip. Lean over in front of them? With my ass bared? So they could see straight up my wazoo? From behind?

  Me?

  Me, who barely even permitted Josh to see me naked?

  My pussy tingled at the idea. Yes, me! How titillating!

  I took my time. What harm in showing off a little, having a bit of fun with my men? Behaving like this, all free with my body and my sexual favors, was so exciting, so new. Yet another thing I’d never done before coming to the inn. I spread out my arms, then placed them provocatively on my hips. I began to lean over, making sure my ass did a fair bit of swaying. Could they see how wet I was already, how ready for a man, how willing?

  “That’s enough,” said the outlaw, his voice not quite as controlled as it had been. Apparently my willingness was coming through loud and clear. “Come here, Running Deer.” He swallowed. “Come sit on my lap.”

  I settled across the outlaw’s lap, as instructed. He put his arms around me.

  “Now give me a kiss.”

  Making sure my hip grazed his erection, I kissed him.

  “Show me your breasts.”

  I lifted my chest and put my hands under my breasts, lifting them. I pushed them together, making them into soft, round pillows.

  He brushed his hand softly over them. “Now turn so the others can enjoy you too.”

  Still sitting on his lap, I scooted around and leaned against him, my back to his chest. His hands encircled me, finding my breasts and lifting them, playing with them, rolling my nipples between thumbs and fingers. The sheriff and the mountain man watched, entranced. I closed my eyes. My toes curled. A thin, wheezing moan escaped my lips.

  The outlaw’s cock jumped under me, coming to life.

  I pressed myself onto him, pushing my butt against his cock.

  God, but this was good!

  The mountain man and the sheriff leaned in close, eyes wide, mouths open, watching our every move. The sheriff sighed and shook his head. He scooted even closer. He brushed his hand up my thigh, then reached out a hand and ran his fingers through my pubic hair. Oh my god. Two men. One playing with my breasts and the other messing with my mound. I gasped and spread my knees, a very accommodating little Indian. If he wanted to take his fingers for a ride in my cunt, who was I to stop him?

  Cunt.

  My cunt.

  When had I ever used that word? Never—not even with Josh. Just thinking smutty words made me hot. Cunt—I shivered. Cock—I squirmed. Pussy—I gasped. Or maybe it was the hands all over me, touching and caressing and rubbing. Patting and flicking and pressing. Making me writhe in delight. Both—it was both. It was everything. I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. The sheriff grinned, a strip of light illuminating his short hair. His hand wandered, exploring the folds of my vulva.

  “Hands off,” yelled the outlaw, “I won her fair and square—she’s mine!”

  The sheriff snatched his hand away. He winked at me.

  The outlaw glared at the other men—at least, I assume he glared, because they scooted back a couple of inches. “That’s better,” he said. He kissed my neck, and he was Logan again. I could tell. The outlaw was gone, at least for the moment. I could hear it in the way he spoke to me, his voice low and familiar. “Hey, babe,” he said.

  So it had been play-acting?

  “Hey yourself!” I answered. I would have said more but at that moment one of his hands left my breast and wandered toward my bush. His fingers meandered through my pubic hair, making me shudder. “Oh! Oh!” I cried, not caring that my audience had crept closer again and was intently studying my every reaction, my every utterance.

  And gawking at my sexually ignited body.

  Of course they were.

  I would have been disappointed if they weren’t. This was a group activity, after all.

  I sat on his lap, my knees on either side of his outstretched legs, rocking my pelvis back and forth, trying to get his hand to touch me in my special places, to do it and do it now, goddamn it! And that wasn’t all—I wanted that long beautiful cock in me, where it was meant to be. We could do it like this—even in this weird position on his lap, we could do it. I could wriggle and squirm and show his cock where to go, I could use my han
d and…um, help it along. A thrill ran through me. Back to front, sitting-on-lap sex. God! Who ever thought such a thing was possible? Had he—Logan, the outlaw—invented it? Was it in some sex manual somewhere?

  “Spread your knees a bit more,” he whispered, brushing my ear with his warm breath.

  I spread my knees.

  “Lift yourself up a couple of inches. Use your thigh muscles. And your hands on the floor.” He put both hands around my waist. “Here, I’ll help.”

  I lifted myself a couple of inches, as instructed. I thought I might expire with lust, I wanted him so badly.

  “Now lean forward…good…like that. Damn, but that’s nice!” He was panting.

  Me too. My breath came in little puffs. Leaning on my arms, I looked down, way down, between my legs, and saw his erection standing tall, ready and waiting. I looked up and saw the sheriff and the mountain man staring at me with glazed eyes. They were fondling each other.

  I snapped to attention. Logan’s cock was probing at my asshole.

  What the hell?

  “Take a hand. Spread your butt cheeks,” he said, his voice thin and strained-sounding.

  “Logan,” I said, trying to turn around, “don’t! Wait!”

  He froze. “You’ve never done this? Are you serious?” He buried his head in my neck. “Angie, I’m so sorry! Oh my god—I screwed this up.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I bit my lip, trembling with desire and a little trepidation, but getting used to the idea. “I want to—just give me a second.”

  “Sure? Take all the time you need.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a moan and a hiccup. “We’ll stop if it does. But it shouldn’t hurt, not if I’m careful. Not if you’re relaxed.”

  Relaxed?

  I didn’t feel relaxed. I felt taut, like a trip-wire. Bunched up, like a spring. As if every end point of every nerve in my body were primed for release. As if I could make love all day long and still come back for more. Was that the kind of relaxed Logan the outlaw meant? Because if it was, then yes, I was more relaxed than I’d ever been in my entire life.

  The outlaw ran his hands over my breasts, holding me tight. “I can tell you’re ready,” he whispered. “You’re all loose down there. You’ll like it, babe—I know you will.”

  Our audience was rapt. I was glad they were there, witnessing this, offering their support. If I could have made love to all three men at the same time, I would have. Maybe next time—there must be a way! But for right now, I was otherwise engaged.

  The outlaw pressed himself at my back door, begging for entry.

  I was ready.

  It was a moment like no other. Intense. Private. Inclusive. Breathtaking. I was about to be introduced into an entirely new world, and I was on the threshold, poised to enter.

  And that was the exact moment Mr. Abiba made his grand entrance.

  Holy shit.

  We’d forgotten he was coming, every single one of us. The swinging doors of our dusty ghost town shelter banged open, letting in a cold gust of wind, and there he stood, legs spread, arms gripping the sides of the doorway, his robes flapping against the doorframe.

  He’s handsome, I realized for the first time, not so old at all! Distinguished, maybe, but not a geezer. How could Josh and I ever have thought that?

  “A ghost town—how very quaint,” Mr. Abiba said, his voice booming.

  We stared at him in shock.

  “I couldn’t walk into your story until I took up a pendant, of course.” He wore a necklace identical to mine. “But I was so very curious!” His eyes were on me. “I see I came at the very crux of the action. Lovely! Carry on. Pay no attention to me. Forget that I am here. I am,” he laughed in delight, “but a fly on the wall!”

  Seriously? He thought we could ignore his presence?

  Mr. Abiba glided to the blanket where Valerian and Geoffrey sat. “May I join you?”

  “Uh…sure,” said Valerian. He scooted over.

  Mr. Abiba hitched up his robes in his hands, as if he were about to go wading in shallow water. Then he folded his long legs onto the ground and settled himself, cross-legged, on the blanket—yet more proof that he was nowhere near as old as we’d once thought. Mr. Abiba looked at me, his head tilted. He gave my naked, crouching body—with a penis pressing at my ass and my heart thumping like crazy—a long, studied gaze. His eyes moved between my breasts and my pussy, then back up again. He smiled slowly. “Why hello, Angela Taylor. Nice to see you like this. You look ravishing, my dear. Your nipples are as rosy as a summer’s day. How are you?”

  I liked him. I adored him, even. But this was going too far.

  “Fine!” I said, my voice almost a hiss. “I’m great!”

  “Are you enjoying your Tool?”

  “Yes!”

  “You’re about to be sodomized, is that what I gather?”

  Logan’s cock twitched.

  I almost shouted my answer. “Yes! I am!”

  Mr. Abiba sighed. “Ah. How lovely for you. Your first time, I gather?”

  “Yes!”

  My asshole trembled. I bit my lip.

  Mr. Abiba smiled tenderly. “Then I am honored to witness your deflowering.”

  I sucked in my breath as Logan’s cock pressed at my asshole.

  Mr. Abiba leaned back, his hands splayed out behind him as if settling in to watch a matinee. “Don’t let me stop you. Go about your business. Give the lady what she desires.” He turned to Valerian. “You do have lubricant for them, don’t you?”

  “Lubricant? Um…no,” Valerian stuttered, “I, uh, forgot.”

  Even in my present state of almost-ass-fucking I could hear the panic in his voice.

  “Tut-tut,” said Mr. Abiba, shaking his head. “Valerian. My boy. You know the rules.”

  I let myself sink half an inch—no more—onto Logan’s cock, just to make sure I really, positively, absolutely liked it. Before Mr. Abiba ruined the mood.

  And yes. I did.

  So did my audience. They had all moved a little closer. They were so near now that my left knee was touching the mountain man’s. He started to massage my thigh. A bolt of hot lava went straight from his hands, through my thigh, up my leg and into my middle. I gasped.

  “Come, man!” said Mr. Abiba. “Get her some lube—now!”

  Valerian shot to his feet. I heard banging, then the distinct sound of a drawer opening and closing, and the swishing of bare feet on stone floors. I screwed my eyes closed, not willing to lose my precious ghost town illusion. Besides, my ass was quivering. You’d think the delay would bring things to a screeching halt, but all it did was make Logan and me want each other all the more.

  And that massage was giving me all sorts of interesting sensations.

  The double doors banged and Valerian was back. “Here it is,” he said, panting.

  “Stop lollygagging,” said an impatient, scowling Mr. Abiba. “Give it to them.”

  Valerian turned toward us, fumbling with the bottle.

  Logan held out his hand. “Valerian. Squeeze some onto my palm,” he said calmly. “No big deal. She’s really wet. We both are. I know what I’m doing—it would have been fine.”

  “Thanks,” whispered Valerian, so quietly I barely heard him.

  He went back to the blanket.

  Logan’s hands moved under us, spreading the lube on his cock and on my ass. When he was finished, he leaned in to me, his chest flush with my back. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “Now?”

  “Yes!”

  The pressure at my ass built and built, and then I opened up—something inside me relaxed, just as Logan had predicted—and the tip of his cock was in me. Holy shit it felt good. His cock was entering me, big and hard, going in, going in. I wanted to holler. I wanted to yell. Hell, I wanted to scream, it was so shockingly, so insanely superb. I wanted to put my full weight on his cock so it would go in.

  But
even I knew that slow was the way to go with ass-fucking. What I hadn’t known was that it would feel so damn fantastic. I loved it…my god, but I loved it. Why had Josh and I never tried this? What was wrong with us?

  “Okay?” Logan asked again, breathless, kissing the back of my neck, loving me in the ass. He hugged his arms around me, holding me, rocking me. “You like it?”

  “Fuck, yes!”

  “Mmm…me too. Me too! Can I go all the way in now? Yes? You want to?”

  I nodded vigorously, pressing my back to him. In what world wouldn’t I want to?

  He helped me to lower myself all the way onto his lap, helped me to take more and more of his cock into myself. I opened up even more—I could feel it happening—and he went into me deeper, deeper, deeper. And it was good. So very, very good. Unlike anything I’d ever felt before. And I loved him for it, for giving this to me.

  Logan hugged me again. “You’re amazing, Angie. So tight. So soft. So lush. I could fuck you forever. God’s honest truth.”

  “Me too,” I whispered.

  I leaned against his warm chest, my eyes closed. I rocked in time with him, feeling him in my ass, feeling him where no man had been before. My god, but it was good. Different in every way from a regular fuck. Wait until I told Josh about this. Wait until I showed him how wonderful it was! I couldn’t wait to do this with my husband. Logan and I rocked gently back and forth, enjoying ourselves immensely.

  “Spread your knees a little,” he whispered, his lips tickling my ear.

  He kissed me then. But that wasn’t the best part. The best part was his hand between my legs, his thumb massaging my clit, his fingers deep within the folds of my pussy. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Time stood still. We enjoyed each other’s bodies in a concentrated, beautiful silence, sharing our joy with each other and with our adoring audience. It seemed as if it would go on forever, but it didn’t. Everything came crashing down—suddenly, horribly, catastrophically.

  “Very nice! Very nice!” said Mr. Abiba, and he was clapping.