STORY EXCERPT

She had to get back to the contractor surfacing her swimming pool, but she recalled many items she had wanted to discuss with the men. The two men who had just given her the biggest, most outrageous orgasm of her life.

“Hey, guys,” she said as she exited the bathroom. “We need to start moving this equipment into the—oh, hello.”

A worker was standing in Cesar’s room eyeballing the spanking bench. She recognized the guy as a laborer for Chas White, the amazing vanishing contractor. She needed to speak to Chas, and apparently Amadeo did, too, because he was now telling the worker, “Tell Chas to call Amadeo Barbieri over at the Lone Palm Ranch. Tell him the building inspector put a stop work order on my tack room and I’m not pleased with his work.”

“No shit,” the African-American worker agreed. “I’ve worked for Chas for two years and have seen him maybe a handful of times. I hate to say that about a boss of mine, but it’s the truth. He’s as rare as a sincere fart in church.”

“Where does he go the whole day?” Willow asked.

“Well, it’s a matter of great speculation among us workers. I really shouldn’t speculate in front of clients, but he does leave us holding the bag most of the time. Let’s just say, he’s an aficionado of tennis.”

Willow didn’t understand, but her two men seemed to. “Ah,” said Amadeo knowingly. “All right, then. Thanks, Carl. I can probably find him over at the Racquet Club myself.”

Carl turned to leave. He pointed back over his shoulder. “And he probably likes that bench, too.”

Willow said, “Tell him to call Willow Paige, too! Well, that was weird. Listen, guys. I was trying to tell you about Ronnie Dobbs way back when I first came in. I talked to Jaclyn’s boyfriend, Fernando.”

“I’m familiar with him,” said Steffen. “He does a lot of work around town.”

“He does?” Willow was surprised that Fernando was actually known for work. “Anyway, Ronnie Dobbs is currently incarcerated at the county jail. He was arrested playing air guitar on the arm of that giant T. Rex statue alongside the highway, so he won’t be harassing me for a few days at least.”

Steffen nodded. “He has a Beaumont address, so he was probably on his way back home when he got arrested. He was just playing air guitar? Doesn’t sound like much of a reason to arrest a guy, even The Most Arrested Man in the Coachella Valley. I’m going to put a BOLO out on his truck, make sure he gets stopped if he’s anywhere within a ten-mile radius of the Searchlight Motel.”

Willow said, “Well, obviously the air guitar wasn’t the whole thing. Apparently Ronnie tried to run from the cops who were yelling at him from one of those megaphones. But he fell down and started flailing around, so the cops easily arrested him.”

Amadeo chuckled. “Sounds like a major character.”

“Oh, he is,” Steffen assured him. “He came sniffing around here looking for some artifact, but he was so creepy I scared him off. Why was he flailing around, did they figure out?”

“Well,” said Willow. “Apparently he’d been snorting some fire ants to celebrate some Wizard of Oz thing. The ants bit his trachea and it swelled up, so he had trouble breathing. Then he claimed police brutality.”

“Oh, he always does that,” said Steffen. “You should see his police record. In between the arrests, it’s one long incident of ‘police brutality.’ I wonder what The Wizard of Oz has to do with fire ants.”

Amadeo helped out. “Let me guess. It wasn’t The Wizard of Oz. Was it Ozzfest?”

Willow clapped her hands together. “That was it! Ozzfest! How’d you know? What is Ozzfest?”

Amadeo said, “There’s an urban legend that Ozzy Osbourne—he’s some heavy metal guy—snorted fire ants. What a moron. Everyone knows you can’t snort fire ants. They haven’t held an Ozzfest since 2010.”

“Says the guy who knows.” Steffen chided him good-naturedly. “Must be your experience in the Unbearable Rightness of Swing.”

Willow giggled. “Well, Ronnie is off the streets for awhile anyway. I don’t think we have anything to fear from him. He’s just a high goofball.”

“And wife-beater,” Steffen told Amadeo.

“What?” Amadeo puffed up to greater proportions when angry. “Let’s get this BOLO out on this guy, Steffen. I’ve got more than a few friends down at County.”

“Same here,” said Steffen. “Let’s go down in person, if we can’t find Chas White first. Listen, Willow, my little sunset palomino.” His reference to her motel’s former business reminded Willow that she hadn’t told Steffen about the “menu” she had found. But he seemed in a rush to depart with Amadeo. “Keep those balls in, my little filly. We’ll be back tonight to take you to dinner. Right, Amadeo?”

“But of course,” agreed Amadeo.

Willow liked being a “little filly” so much she didn’t mind when the men left for the County. She dove back into her remodeling work with gusto. She was reminded with every step that she took of the two men who had given her the gift of the amazing orgasm. For some reason they seemed as though they wanted to date her—seriously date her. It had been so long since she had noticed anyone make a pass at her, Willow was entirely skeptical. But the two balls rolling against each other inside of her told her otherwise.

ADULT EXCERPT

“My little filly,” he said. He had seen some gangster call a gal that on an old movie, and it fit with the whole Palomino Ranch motif of her motel. Steffen knew women couldn’t resist his German-Irish accent, and Willow was no exception. Was it wrong to use this to his advantage? Why the hell not? He petted her face with the back of his hand. “It does make me jealous to see Amadeo kiss you, but I’ll get over it, I hope. I just want to be the only one pleasuring you. What if Amadeo is better at it than me? You see my dilemma.”

“Sweetie,” cooed Willow. “What do you have to be worried about? You’re the sexiest, tastiest man I’ve ever met. You were obviously so skilled the other day at giving me a hand relief party.”

Steffen was perplexed. “A…a what?”

Willow grinned secretively. She reached into her giant handbag that she’d thrown onto the ground by the rock. Amadeo kneeled beside Steffen to see what Willow pulled from the bag. It was a piece of shiny black cardboard that declared in pink lettering:

The Best Fillies in California!

Ranch Delights

“What the fuck?” said Steffen, taking the cardboard from Willow’s fingers.

“It’s a menu I found in an old file drawer in the motel office.”

A slow smile spread over Steffen’s face. Apparently Willow had discovered a bill of fare from the old “World Famous” Sunset Palomino Ranch. “This is a great find, Willow! Look at this. A Hand Relief Party is one of the appetizers.”

Amadeo said, “I guess we’re just getting started. Hey, look. Bondage Dungeon. That must’ve been the room we were in the other day.”

“No doubt,” said Steffen, eagerly scanning the offerings. “Some of these are obvious, but others are kind of obscure. Like, what’s a Milky Way?”

Amadeo said right off the bat, “That’s when men like to nuzzle women who are lactating.” His hand automatically shot out to fondle one of Willow’s breasts, although he didn’t take his eyes from the menu.

Steffen’s hand automatically shot out to slap Amadeo’s hand away. “Okay, you’re the expert.”

“The sexpert.” Willow giggled.

“Then what’s this? A Spit Roast? I can picture a pig on a spit being roasted over a barbecue. That doesn’t conjure up anything particularly sexy.”

“That’s easy,” said Amadeo. “That can be combined with a Feast at the Y.”

Steffen scoffed. “I can figure out what that is.”

“Oh yeah?” Amadeo’s tone was challenging. “Then do it, lover boy.” To assist, Amadeo took Willow’s skirt hem between his fingers and slid it up her thigh.

Willow didn’t protest, but cast Steffen a low, sultry look. “It is on the entrée menu, Steffen.” She parted her thighs to indicate her willingness to give Steffen a Feast at the Y. She leaned back on the rock on one hand and hitched one sandal up into a cranny, giving Steffen a display of her narrow thong, her pussy lips bulging enticingly on either side of the fabric strip.

Amadeo moved behind Steffen, rubbing the back of his neck with encouragement. “Go ahead, bro. Have your fill.”

Steffen needed no more enticing. He considered himself a proficient muff diver. That Domme he had lived with had often “queened” him while he was tied up, so he had developed strong throat and tongue muscles. That was a couple of years ago, though—he’d been a swinging bachelor ever since, and bachelors didn’t often run around performing cunnilingus. Still, Steffen calculated in his head as he dove in to take tiny, licking bites of Willow’s inner thighs. It had taken her approximately thirty seconds to come the other day when he’d given her that Hand Relief Party. And she still had the Ben Wa balls inside of her. This wouldn’t take long at all.

He hadn’t counted, though, on being so utterly distracted by Amadeo.

First off, Amadeo reached around and grabbed one of Steffen’s wrists. Before Steffen could protest—if he had wanted to—he was once again cuffed, this time with his wrists in front of him. He tried not to miss a beat in his tonguing of Willow. Her inner thigh was like a creamy pillow, and she twitched every time he licked her. He hooked a finger around the strip of fabric and pulled it aside. When he touched the tip of his nose to the clitoris that peeked from between her labia, she gasped.

“Oh! Steffen!”

That was a good sign, and she clutched the back of his skull to cradle him to her.

But Amadeo couldn’t just let him have his fun. He cupped Steffen’s stiff penis, clothed inside his jeans, and squeezed. “This is all I imagined after seeing you in the shower at school. I’d cuff you to the shower head and suck on this long, fat cock.”

“That’s right,” Willow encouraged. Steffen didn’t know if the spoke to him or Amadeo, but either was fine. “That’s perfect.”

Steffen reached out his tongue-tip to swipe at the bulging clitoris, and Willow near about tore a handful of his hair out. He was doing it right, this Feast at the Y.