The Brakes
All good things come to an end. Mom and I lay there holding each other until an inner clock told me it was time to start moving. Neither one of us had come anywhere close to napping. Fifteen minutes later, we were riding up over the southern ridge, leaving the faerie glen behind us. We were now headed into the toughest part of our ride.
On hot days like this, no self-respecting bovine mother would have allowed herself, or her offspring, to be seen out on that dry, hot stretch of prairie that we called the Flats. I didn’t anticipate seeing anything out there and wouldn’t have if Mom hadn’t pointed out what looked like an odd patch of shade under a large stand of sagebrush.
We rode closer to where I could make out the bloated carcass of a Black Angus cow. “Shit, what happened here?” We approached slowly, looking for any sign of her calf or what might have done her in. We saw neither.
We stopped a ways off so the horses wouldn’t get spooked, and Mom held Lefty’s reins while I walked the rest of the way up to the body. The coyotes hadn’t found it yet, but that was just a matter of time. She was starting to smell pretty ripe. It didn’t take long to see that she’d been shot. Well placed, right behind the ear, and the bullet passed completely through her skull. I took a couple of circles around her, but didn’t expect to see anything.
The shot had clearly come from a hunting rifle, so whoever pulled the trigger had been some distance away. I’d never seen something like this, but recalled Dad telling me that, sometimes, drunk high school kids came out there looking to spotlight a deer. If they didn’t find one, they’d plug a cow instead and leave it. There was a two-track road a quarter mile away, so I walked back to the horses, and we rode over there to look for tracks.
The road was lightly traveled and had grass covering the tracks for long stretches, but I did manage to find a bare stretch that had a very light impression pressed into the hard, dry dirt. I didn’t know if it would help, but I took a picture of it with my cell phone, and we decided to move on. We soon found ourselves traversing our way down a sidehill on our way into a rougher part of the lease we called the brakes.
Passage through this area was challenging. Large clumps of cedar choked the bottoms of the tangled maze of ravines and draws. This forced travelers to go up and around them, only to have to drop back down into the next passage, and hope they’d be able to follow it for a respectable distance before it would be necessary to climb up and out again. I had ridden through the area with my relatives since childhood and knew the best paths, but they were still challenging for any horse and rider, regardless of their experience.
There were a few higher knolls that allowed us a decent look at a couple of the marshy pools tucked inside the terrain, and we took advantage of those. We saw several clusters of cattle bunched together in what sparse shade they could find under the larger cedars. Sprinkled around the slopes, in the smaller patches of shadow, were several cow-calf pairs. At this point, I was satisfied that the herd had been well accounted for and appeared to be in good health. I had just turned to tell Mom that we should start the final leg home when Poncho stumbled on his last few steps down a hill.
Mom did a great job staying seated and helping Poncho keep his head up so he could get his feet back under him, but when the bay stood and tried to take his next step, he did so with a noticeable limp. Mom immediately slid down off of him and moved to examine his right foreleg. I climbed off of Lefty and watched how Poncho moved as I approached. He didn’t seem to be in great pain when he tried to put weight on it, but he did favor the leg.
Mom stepped back as I approached. I spoke to the bay softly while I first felt the leg, then raised it and moved my hands along its length. “Nothing’s broken,” I said, watching the relief register on Mom’s face. I set the leg back on the ground and led the horse in a few tight circles. “Yeah, just a light sprain. He’ll be okay. I don’t think you should try to ride him out of here, though.” The look of concern returned to Mom’s face.
“It’ll be okay,” I tried to reassure her. “You can climb on Lefty and lead Poncho back home. I’ll start to walk. When you get to the house, you or Liv can bring the side-by-side back to the section corner and wait for me. I’ll meet you there.”
“The hell you will,” Mom said sternly. “I’m not about to leave you out here on foot to stumble into a nest of snakes or die of thirst. You have riding boots on, not hiking boots. No!”
“Well then, what do you propose?” I asked.
Mom looked over at my horse. Lefty’s good and stout. I think he can handle us riding double.”
I looked at the big sorrel but remained skeptical. I knew he could handle us for a considerable distance, but we still had about a four-mile ride home, half of it through this rough up-and-down country. I looked back at Mom, but saw there would be no arguing with her. “Fine,” I gave in, “but we’re moving slow, and at the first sign of trouble we’re gonna change it up.”
“Fine,” Mom agreed while snugging her hat down. “Let’s get started then.”
“You want front or back?” I asked.
Mom smiled. “I’ll drive.”
I smiled back, “Fine,” I said as I started adjusting the stirrups for her. I waited while Mom mounted, then handed Poncho’s reins up to her. She rode Lefty over next to a small cutbank, and I stretched my leg up and over his rump, having to grip Mom tightly for a few seconds while I adjusted myself. “Sorry,” I apologized for the quick grope.
“Not a problem,” Mom puffed over her shoulder.
As soon as I was settled in, I was grateful for the high cantle on my saddle. I’d been admiring how Mom’s butt filled the seat of hers all day, and to have my cock sitting just inches away from it now could have spelled some serious trouble, were the crafted curve of hard leather not providing a good, solid boundary between us. Still, I did have to sneak my hand down inside my pants and adjust the goods to make for a more comfortable ride.
I don’t know if Mom knew what I was up to, but she waited an appropriate amount of time before asking me, “Set?”
I took a deep breath. I was still unsure of what to do with my hands, but replied, “Yup.”
Mom started Lefty along the bottom of the wash we were in, headed for the first slope we’d have to climb. When we got there, Mom reached around for my right hand and placed it on her stomach, saying, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to get over being shy, or you’re going to wind up sitting on the ground, cowboy.” I had never pressed my open palm against my mother in such an intimate way before, and I marveled at her softness, but also how toned her stomach muscles were underneath that softness.
She coaxed Lefty up the slope, and we both leaned forward. I felt her abdominal muscles tighten under my fingers as her body began the familiar undulating movements of riding uphill. My stomach pressed against the top of her firm ass, and my hand became trapped in a tight squeeze between her stomach, tits, and legs. When we got to the top, Mom reached down and held my hand in place against her stomach. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
I laughed. “You asking me, or Lefty?”
Mom chuckled, “Well, he ain’t got much say in the matter, does he?”
“In that case, no, weren’t bad at all.”
“Good,” Mom replied, still holding my hand against her body. “Because we’ve got a few more of those to go before we’re out into open country.”
I kept my hand pressed against Mom’s stomach as we rode, occasionally allowing it to drop to her hips on the flatter portions. I didn’t know what it was doing for her, but I was having one of the more enjoyable rides that I’d had on Lefty in quite some time. Turns out the downhill trips were just as fun as the uphill ones. In those, depending on how steep the slope was, Mom leaned back, pressing her shoulders into my stomach. Her mid-back would occasionally push down against the tip of my stiffened cock, and, to add to the fun, my hand naturally slipped up toward her chest so I had to roll it outward to grasp her shoulder near her armpit sometimes, or else I’d get a full handful of tit.
My cock was hard by the time we finished a couple of knolls – hard and uncomfortable. It was at that point that I decided to say screw it and just make the most of the ride. On the next slope up, I positioned my hand so that her torso pressed my right index finger down into the groove between her groin and her inner thigh. I didn’t get frisky, but I didn’t really have to. Lefty’s gait, making little surges uphill, caused Mom’s hips to flex with his movement and my hand to move naturally down against her crotch. When we reached the top, I let my hand move upward, but only to about her pubic bone. I could hear Mom make a surprised “hunh,” sound when she realized my fingers were still on her lower abdomen.
We rode across the top of the rise and started down into the next ravine. This one was a bit steeper, and Mom had to lean back into me. I rolled my hips forward and pressed my groin against the cantle so I could match Mom’s angle. As I did so, I let my right hand slide up her body to cup the underside of her right tit and pull her to me as if I were simply keeping myself from falling backward. When Mom felt my hand close around her fleshy mound, she released a long, slow breath.
Things progressed until I was quite unashamedly groping my mother whenever we went up or down a rise, letting my right hand roam freely across her body. She said nothing, nor did she make any attempt to reposition my hand once the need for me to hold her had passed. I reached across her body and cupped her left tit, holding her close against my chest as we crossed the top of the knolls. When we were in the bottom of the draws, I’d started blatantly cupping her snatch, which caused her to subtly roll her hips as if Lefty’s gait was causing her to move that way. It wasn’t long before her right hand covered mine as she tried to increase the sensation.
I’d been holding Poncho’s reins in my left hand this whole time, but decided it was time to switch it up a bit. The next time we were on somewhat level ground, I tucked the end of the reins into the back of my belt. This left both of my hands free to roam my mother’s body. When she felt both of my hands slide around her, I heard an audible groan and felt her press back against me despite our being on flat ground.
Mom pulled her hat off and hung it on the pommel so she could lean further back. This allowed me to plant kisses along her cheek and neck, which elicited another groan. It wasn’t long before she started to pull at her shirt, saying in a tension-filled voice, “All right, buster, if you’re going to start in on that, let’s just do this right.”
With that, she pulled her t-shirt and bra up on top of her tits, giving me a good view of her ample chest from over her shoulder. She leaned back into me again, giving me an even better angle. Her areolas were a bit bigger than a silver dollar, and her plump, fleshy nipples jutted out a good half inch or better. She reached for my hands and placed them on her hardened nubs. I immediately squeezed, and her deep, guttural groan poured into my left ear.
“Ohh, fffffuck!” she groaned. Although I’d never call my mother a prudish woman, I had never heard her use that word before in my life. “Ohhh, ummm!” she continued as my fingers crimped her nipples, giving them both a few experimental tugs. She pressed her feet down into the stirrups, which helped her press back against me while raising her chest to meet my prying digits. She turned her head to the right, seeking my lips with hers while she reached up and back to pull my head down to hasten the kiss.
My left hand continued roaming over her soft mounds as my right began to explore the softness of her belly and below. I reached for her pussy, still snug in her jeans. She pressed it upward, eagerly seeking better contact with my hand through the denim. She wrenched her mouth away and gasped when I managed to find the soft cleave at the top of her hungry pussy lips.
I watched, spellbound as she writhed and gasped in my hands for a moment. We were both completely oblivious to the fact that Lefty had stopped moving while we wrestled together on top of him. I decided to take the next risk and started undoing Mom’s belt. After the briefest pause, she pushed her hips forward, signaling that it was okay for me to continue. I quickly released the buckle, undid the button, and eased her zipper down as far as it would go.
I’d had sex a few times with my girlfriend, Cassie, so I wasn’t heading into unfamiliar territory here. Cassie went off to college last year, though, and I’d heard she was hooking up with some guy from out of state. I’d always considered our relationship to be more friends with benefits, so I wasn’t heartbroken at the news.
Mom’s breathing sounded ragged as I opened up her pants, placed my hand on her abdomen, and slid my fingers under the waistband of her panties, where I felt the fringe of the unruly mat of pubic hair that I’d seen through her soaked underwear the day before. That’s when it hit me. In the last 24 hours, I had gone from sneaking side-eye peeks at my mother’s panty-covered pubic hair to now being about to comb my fingers through it, on my way to actually touching her pussy.
I gave her left nipple a good tug as I slid my right hand down between her legs and immediately discovered her engorged clit. “Unnh!” she groaned and spasmed sharply, as if she’d been shocked, so I moved my fingertips back to her clitoral hood and pushed it forward. I figured her clit was probably sensitive from being rubbed through her jeans, so I used the fleshy sheath to avoid direct contact with my fingertips. Because of the angle, I knew I wouldn’t be able to slide them inside her, so I focused my attention on her stiff little peg. She responded well and was soon making little chuffing noises as I continued to nurse the hood up and down over her hard button.
I found that she really enjoyed having her nipples pulled, so I alternated tugs between them as I continued to nudge her clit. It didn’t take long before she went charging into an orgasm on a horse that was standing still. She started grunting, and her body began a rhythmic bucking motion.
“There… there… there…” she moaned and pressed hard back into me, and her hips began thrusting on their own. I felt her lungs heave as her body churned oxygen, trying to reach the goal her loins demanded she attain. Her last few thrusts came from a desperate hunger that consumed her. She finally released with a wavering, submissive wail. “Rand! Oh, fuuu… I’m…” Her body spasmed hard for a few moments, nearly unseating her. She finally collapsed into a quivering, gasping pile of limbs and hair that remained horseback only because I held on to her.
She gasped and whimpered as she started coming around. “Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh Rand, Oh, sweet Jesus.” I wrapped her in my arms, pressing my lips against her neck, tasting the sweat and passion that was still pouring out of her. She stretched up and tasted it for herself off my lips. As she did, her eyes sparkled, and she gave a throaty chuckle. “Mmm-hmm, you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Not quite like this,” I responded. “Pretty sure it’s Lefty’s first time though,” I joked. Mom laughed then looked around, surprised. “We stopped?” she said.
“Some time ago,” I answered.
“Oh, my hat!” she gasped, looking down.
I followed her eyes to her hat, which she’d knocked off the pommel with her thrashing around, and was now mashed under Lefty’s hoof.
“Oh, shoot!” I exclaimed. I pressed her forward and asked, “You okay here?” She nodded and sat up on her own, so I slid down to retrieve the hat. I coaxed Lefty to move his leg and reached for what was now a flattened piece of woven hemp. I gave it a whack on my leg to get the dirt off and knocked it back into some semblance of a hat. By the time I turned to hand it up to Mom, she had reassembled her…
