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Horse Lover!

Recently I attended End of Trail, a western shooting event here in California. There are lots of cowgirls about, decked in semi-authentic get ups. Some take on the role of ropin' ridin' Calicos, while others prefer big hair, red lips and corsets. I'd always been interested in these events, and wasn't attending with any great subversion. Yet, the gears began to spin as I entered various tents and was brushed by large satin dresses. There's no way in hell you'd reach up one of those skirts without being slapped, or worse, shot. Of course, loaded guns were only permitted in shooting areas, and I wasn't about to test its authenticity. As it was noon, the sun was up and it was dusty. I stood at the entrance of the mock Tombstone saloon. The place was crowded as many card games were being played. I made my way to one of the tables to try my hand. Then, it happened, as I held my cards, I felt warm metal on my arm. What had touched me was a belt buckle. I looked up and next to me was a tall blonde she apologized by blinking and turned to greet a cowboy who called to her. She was no non-sense, the way she spoke, but then again, most of these people at the event seemed a bit hard. I turned back to the game, and there it was again, this girl bumped me. Looking up to her, she was still talking to the cowboy with her hip against my chair. Now and again she would push off and then recline. At that I took a different posture lowering my arm to the armrest. My left hand kept my cards face down on the table so I could continue to play. She pushed off my chair, and I raised my elbow flush with its edge. As she reclined, her cheeks gave way, as much as jeans allow. With every word she spoke I could feel it through her ass to my elbow. At one point she was laughing and it was difficult for me to concentrate on what the dealer was saying. It was enough for me so I stood up and patted her back, feeling her bra. She turned quickly and my hand brushed one of her holsters. I just looked at her, letting my fingertips play with her belt buckle while she faced me. She smiled and apologized, letting me through. Later that evening I saw her riding by, and with my camera ready I snapped a pic (see: http://www.geocities.com/fruitysense/cowgirl.html).

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