Sara Chambers
Treasure Hunter
The Skinwalker Totem (Book 10)
By Amanda Clover
@amandasmut
Cover artwork by Deilan12
This book and all its contents are copyright 2019 by Amanda Clover. All rights are reserved and no portions may be reproduced unless for the use of brief quotations for review purposes.
All characters appearing in this story are over the age of 18. This is a work of parody and any resemblance to real people or situations is coincidental.
Cowboy’s Last Stop
Santa Fe, New Mexico
The beautiful cowgirl wore cutoff denim shorts that hugged her firm backside like a stonewashed second skin. Her wide hips swung from side to side as she sauntered across the bar towards the jukebox. Half the men in the place stared at her, admiring her ample breasts in the low-cut western-style shirt and her long, bare legs. A couple of the men even knew their way around cowboy boots well enough to recognize the 4,000 dollar Lucchese boots she was wearing. They probably wondered, “What in the hell is a girl like her wearing boots like those in a dump like this?”
She leaned her hip against the jukebox and kept the brim of her Stetson low over her face. Her blonde braid hung over her shoulder and teased the tops of her breasts. She slipped two quarters in the machine and punched in Johnny Lee’s Looking for Love. She watched the old jukebox pick up the vinyl and deposit it on the platter. A few might have recognized the song from the Urban Cowboy soundtrack. The cowgirl was willing to wager there was one man in the bar who would get her particular message.
A lanky man sidled up behind her as the music began to play.
“Hey there, sugar,” he said. “Want to dance?”
Sara Chambers tipped back the brim of her hat. It wasn’t the man she was looking for, just some well-meaning cowboy looking for a good time. Handsome enough. Young and eager.
“Not sure I would rate that as dancing music,” she said, surprising the cowboy with her posh English accent. She saw he wasn’t going to give up. Before he could try another line, she teased a finger over the front of his button-down shirt. “Buy me a drink and wait at the bar. Perhaps I’ll pop by in a bit.”
“Yeah? Alright!” He said, breaking into a slightly crooked grin. “What’re you drinking?”
“Gin and tonic?” She suggested. She saw his smile fade a bit and she added, “Or a beer. Something terrible and American.”
The cowboy tipped his hat and said, “You got it, sugar!”
Once he had gone off to wait at the bar, Sara turned her attention back to the other patrons of the Cowboy’s Last Stop. They were a dusty and surly lot. Most of them grizzled. She didn’t see any movement among the others, though a fair few were staring at her still, possibly contemplating some evil deed. She smiled at them.
“Now then,” she murmured. “Where was I?”
She gazed past the men to the small, disused dance floor near the empty stage. Just beside the stage, which looked like it hadn’t seen a live act in more than a decade, was the dusty object of her interest. The mechanical bull was crude by modern standards, pretty much a saddle on a couple of pistons, sharp edges rounded to make it slightly safer, but it looked to be built with automotive-grade pneumatics. Sara was willing to wager the machine on its most dangerous setting could prove a challenge.
She slid a dollar into the control box and a red flashing light went off on the wall beside the life-size mechanical bull. A fanfare played and a voice boomed, “RIDER, CHOOSE YOUR SETTING!” She glanced over at the patrons.
This certainly had the attention of every man in the bar. Even the waitresses and the bartender had stopped what they were doing to stare at her. The lad she had sent to the bar saluted her with a bottle of something dreadful. She flicked back the brim of her hat, gave the lad a wink, and cranked the difficulty dial to its maximum setting.
“Be careful, missy,” some concerned cowboy shouted. A few murmured in agreement with the man’s sentiment. Most of the men, made of harder stuff or too drunk to care, just continued to stare at her.
Sara smiled at the patrons and swung a long, muscular leg over the back of the mechanical bull. Her firm bottom fit into the depression in the well-worn saddle. Frantic music began to play and a timer began its count above Sara’s head.
The bar was transfixed by the sight of the beautiful cowgirl-cum-treasure-hunter, the bull grasped between her muscular thighs, one hand on the saddle and the other above her head. The pneumatic machinery under the bull hissed and thumped. She should have been launched across the room, but her strong legs held her to the bull. The force of each mechanical buck thumped against her inner thighs and into the taut denim covering her quim.
Rather exciting, she thought, letting the pleasure thump into her core, but clinging tightly to the bull. She bounced up and down atop it, her tits heaving in her western shirt, straining the buttons one moment and pulled downward the next. She lost her hat to the jerking motion and a lock of blonde hair tickled her nose like a feather. Her muscles ached and her pussy throbbed. She glanced back at the clock and was amazed to see only four seconds had elapsed.
“Get it, girl!” One man shouted.
“Ride that beast!” Another cried.
She was encouraged by whoops and whistles from the previously stony-faced patrons. The lad from the bar hurried over and retrieved her Stetson from the floor before the crowd trampled on it. The violent motions of the mechanical bull intensified suddenly and nearly dislodged Sara. She clenched tighter with her muscular thighs. The flashing red light hid the flush in her face as the pistons of the bull thumped and vibrated into her pussy.
“Yeahhhhh!” One drunk shouted, staggering dangerously close to the machine. “Almost there!”
He was right in more ways than one. The thumping against her pussy was driving her wild in a span of seconds. She gasped and rode atop the bucking bull, grinding her pussy against the worn saddle as the machinery thumped it against her warming folds. The timer flipped from six to seven seconds. The crowd stared as the machine kicked into its final, most difficult stage. It shook and swung from side to side. It spun in a circle, riding high and slamming down low on its truck shocks.
Sara held on the whole time, breasts finally bursting free of her western shirt, still encased in a lacy white bra, but drawing hoots and wolf whistles from the men. She threw back her head, cumming as the buzzer sounded. The ride pounded through her pussy, the intense pleasure rippling from her depths and her battered clit.
“Yesssss!” She cried, arching atop the bull. The pistons gave a last thump and hiss of released pressure and the bull slumped back down to its resting position. Sara’s thighs shook, her breasts quivered a last time, and she relaxed in the saddle. The men cheered her. She shouted, “I think I need one of those for my bedroom.”
Men clamped her on the back. A few gave her a goose on her shapely rear. Everyone was offering to buy Sara a drink; everyone except for the man with the wide face and chiseled jaw standing by the door to the back room. He had hard blue eyes that had seen things most of the cowboys in the bar hadn’t. He was well-built, middle-aged, but not too worn down by it, with a scruff of silvery-brown hair on his cheeks and a scar that ran from the left corner of his forehead just below his hairline and down to his right eyebrow.
Sara pushed through the crowd to meet him. Her admirer from the bar pressed a cold beer into her hand. She took a swig and handed the beer back, never breaking eye contact with the big man’s blue eyes.
“Tex Love,” she said.
“Sara Chambers,” he replied. “You find what you’re looking for?”
She looked him from head to toe. He was clad in denim and a checked shirt. It sui
ted him.
“Yes, I believe so, Tex,” she said. “A word?”
“Step into my office,” said Tex, gesturing to the door to the backroom.
It turned out to be a bit of a misleading door. It actually led to a short hallway between the two bathrooms and out of the building. Tex followed Sara down the rather unglamorous hallway and out past a stinking dumpster. His trailer was parked behind the bar. An old, rusty Airstream with light glowing through red curtains. No air-conditioning, so it was as hot as the desert outside.
Sara took note of beer bottles strewn about, some old food boxes, and more than one firearm. The couch where they sat together looked like someone had jumped up and down on it until it had died. The man was an absolute slob, but it was hard to argue with his lifestyle as she kissed him hungrily and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his hairy, muscular chest.
“You’re rather fit,” she said, teasing her fingers over his tiny nipples and down to the washboard of his abdomen.
“You don’t beat around the bush, do ya?” He chuckled as she finished unbuttoning his shirt.
“Your machine left me in a bit of a state,” Sara said as she went to work on his belt buckle. “I’m afraid I absolutely must deal with that first.”
“What do you want with me, Sara?” Tex asked, his cowboy hat tipped back from his big, handsome face.
“Other than your cock?” She said, unzipping his jeans.
“Other than that,” said Tex.
“Ah, here we are,” said Sara, freeing Tex’s cock from his briefs. It was only about average in length, but wonderfully thick and with a bell end as big as a plum. Rather hairy, but she supposed beggars could not be choosers. Sara gave the hard-eyed cowboy a wink and dropped her head rather eagerly to his lap. He sucked in a breath as she took him into her mouth, running her tongue around his cockhead and drawing on it with suction. She moaned around him as his manhood stiffened a bit more and she began to bob her head in his lap.
“Ain’t gonna complain about your methods,” chuckled Tex, leaning back and resting a hand atop Sara’s head. She looked up at him as she worked her soft lips halfway down his shaft, her spit soaking down the rest. His thicket of pubes tickled her nose, so she did not try to deep throat him. She bobbed vigorously up and down on him as she used one hand on his root and the other to begin fumbling off her tight shorts. Tex groaned, “Darlin’, you know what you’re doin’. I’m thinkin’ this ain’t your first rodeo.”
Sara popped her lips from his bell end and give him a frown. “First Rodeo? Were you a expecting a virgin, Tex?”
“I said I wasn’t complainin’ about your methods,” chuckled the cowboy.
“Good,” said Sara, pulling his bollocks out through the fly of his jeans. “I’m going to expect some answers when I’m through with you.”
She began tonguing and slurping wantonly on his fat bollocks while her hand worked his spit-covered shaft. Text groaned and twitched so much Sara though he might shoot off just from what she was doing. However, the big cowboy grumbled and pulled her up from his heavy sack.
“Darlin’, I want a good look at you,” he said and his big, callused hands went to Sara’s western-style shirt. He finished what the bull had started with the buttons and reached behind her to unbuckle her bra. Once he freed her large, pert breasts, he let out a whistle, knocked back his hat, and remarked, “Prettiest peaks I’ve seen since the Rockies.”
Before she could offer him a naughty rejoinder, Tex buried his face against her tits and began fondling them with both hands. She hissed as the cowboy nipped at her nipple, sucking hard and pinching her other bud. Sara rolled her eyes. Even Baxter had learned better behavior than that.
As if on cue, she felt her phone begin to vibrate. Her denim shorts were still on, though unbuttoned and unzipped. Tex continued to amuse himself with her breasts so she reached into her pocket and took out of her phone.
“Not a good time for a chat, Baxter,” said Sara.
“I was concerned for your safety, Miss Chambers,” said her favorite boffin. “The thermal scope on the drone shows you in close proximity to your contact. I thought he might be attacking you.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” said Sara. Then another thought occurred to her. “Baxter, are you watching me?”
“Overwatch, mum,” said Baxter, sounding a bit embarrassed.
Tex started to lift his face from Sara’s breasts and she pushed him back down. “Mmmmmmm,” moaned Tex, his face completely buried in her cleavage.
“You know he’s not attacking me,” she said. “You know what I am going to need to do to get this information. Why are you torturing yourself?”
“Just looking out for—“
“Unless you like to watch,” she said. “Is that it, Baxter? Voyeurism? Are you a bit of a cuckold?”
“That is not what I like,” snapped Baxter. “I just want… want you home safe and sound.”
“Awww, you are a sweet lad,” laughed Sara. “Well, I’ll be back soon enough and—“
Tex lifted his face from between Sara’s breasts again and this time plucked the phone from her grasp. He held it to his ear.
“Baxter?” He growled. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of the little lady.” Tex hung up the phone and tossed it over his shoulder into a pile of dirty laundry.
“How rude, Mr. Love,” said Sara.
“Only room for two in that bed back there,” said Tex with a nod of his head to the tiny bedroom at the back of the trailer.
“Oh, we aren’t going to shag on the sofa?” Sara raised an eyebrow. “How romantic!”
Tex scooped her up in his arms and she laughed as he carried her off the couch and into his bedroom. It smelled like old sweat, sex, and men’s aftershave in the tiny room. He threw her down onto the bed, peeling off her shorts and nearly ripping off her knickers. He planted two loud swats on her bum, leaving his handprints on her creamy cheeks as he moved behind her.
She watched over his shoulder. What a slab of a man, she thought, admiring his muscular abdomen and his chiseled chin. He took hold of his fat cock, rested one hand on her creamy bottom, and guided his manhood into her neatly-trimmed snatch. She sighed and he groaned as he pushed past her swollen cuntlips and thrust into the tight channel of her pussy. He hilted inside her, his heavy bollocks pressing against her clit and his body leaned against her firm, round bum.
“You don’t have to be so gentle, Tex,” she teased. “You saw me with the bull.”
“Heh, you got it, little lady,” he said and grabbed hold of her with hands so big they nearly encircled her slender waist. Tex pounded his cock hard into Sara’s tight pussy. She had been ready for everything, but Tex bucked a lot harder than the mechanical bull. He drove her face down into the musty pillows and held her tightly, slamming his muscular hips against the curve of her bum. The bed creaked and shook with the force of his thrusts.
“Oohhhhh, Mr. Love,” she moaned. “You know how to treat a girl!”
“Learned a few tricks in my day,” he panted, slamming her even faster. He shocked her a moment later with a wet finger up her arsehole. She cried out into the pillow as he slid his finger deep into her bum, curling it slightly as he bounced his hips against her cheeks. His cock seemed to swell inside her and his powerful strokes became more ragged and intense.
“Oh, darlin’,” he moaned. “You’re too tight. This old… ohhhh… old cowboy ain’t holdin’ out much longer.”
She arched her back and slid off his cock. Text grunted in surprise, his glistening red cock visibly twitching. She shoved him forcefully onto his back, his head and shoulders hanging over the side of the bed. She climbed atop him.
“Wouldn’t be much of a cowgirl on my knees, would I?” She said, scooping her hat up and settling it back on her head. She slid down onto his cock, straddling his hips as she began to ride.
“Ohhhhhh, you go on and ride it out then, darlin’,” said Tex, grabbing her bum with both hands.
“I reckon
I just will,” she said, affecting a southern accent. She worked her hips with all the athleticism of a gymnast, riding up and down on his cock and making her plush breasts bounce and splash with the rise and fall of her body. Her pleasure built quickly. It seemed to catch up to Tex’s impending climax.
“Gonna let loose you keep goin’ like that,” he said, squeezing her ass tight.
“Let loose, Tex,” she gasped, riding his cock hard and fast. “Give me your big cowboy load!”
“Ohhhhhh what the fuck,” he groaned, thrusting upwards, his whole body tensing. He impaled her pussy on his fat cock. It jerked inside her just as she crested and began to cum. She wailed as pleasure rippled from her core and up into her body. Her sweat-slicked breasts bounced with her final ride across the finish line as Tex’s cock exploded deep inside her pussy. Her inner walls clutched at his spurting member. Her hot, slippery cunt seemed to drink his plentiful seed.
She slid down onto him for the last time and slumped across his chest. He was gasping for breath, a grin on his face as his cock dribbled out the last of his load into her creamy pussy.
“Bloody hell,” she laughed, still shuddering with aftershocks. “You’ve a nice cock, Mr. Love.”
“Thank you kindly,” he said, his words softly spoken between breaths.
A quick trip to the trailer’s tiny loo and a cold beer later and they sat on the bed together, still naked and still in the afterglow of their mutual orgasm. Sara leaned the dreadful but cold bottle of American beer against her overheated face. Tex drank his beer and stared at the rise and fall of her breasts.
“All them crusty cowboys in the bar might not have recognized you,” said Tex. “But I know who you are. We get CNN out here. So I’m wonderin’ why the lady who was given that award by the Queen of England for saving Europe from monsters just showed up in my bar.”
“The Order of the Garter. And my world saving days are behind me,” said Sara. “I am all business these days, Mr. Love.”
“Please stop callin’ me that,” said Tex. “Just ‘Tex’, now that we’re on friendly terms and all.”
The Skinwalker Totem Page 1