Going for the Gold 4
AVAILABLE: Monday, October 24th
This title is offered at a 15% discount. Offer ends midnight CST, October 31st.
[Ménage Amour: Erotic Western Ménage a Trois, M/M/F, with M/M elements, interracial, spanking, voyeurism, sex toys]
They’ll always have Yosemite.
California, 1851. The Sierras are ruled by a band of marauding Indians, and Major Huntley Ashbury is determined to corral them. Huntley’s solitary existence as the biggest trader in the foothills is destroyed when he runs into Whitman Whitney, a half-breed physician with a talented knack for curing hysterical women—and men. Together they rein in the most savage barbarian of them all. Belle Pennington emerges from the forest with nothing left to lose but her Chinese book that tells stories of ribald encounters.
As Huntley and Whit clash impressing Belle with their skills, their Battalion ventures into the wild to discover the Indians' stronghold. Whit has only known the touch of men before, and his peculiar medical expertise astonishes and unites the three in their journey. But it is Belle’s restless spirit the men must conquer in the deep grassy valley of the Yosemite.
A Siren Erotic Romance
As Whit licked Huntley’s tongue, he brutishly manhandled the erection cradled in Huntley’s buckskins. Huntley let go of the greasy saddle horn and leaned back on his hands submissively as Whit deftly unbuttoned his buckskins, even lifting his ass to enable Whit to slide the pants down.
Unsure what Whit’s game was, Belle only knew that in “swinging under the willow trees” the man was impaled upon a dildo affixed to the swing’s seat. As she kneeled up behind Whit to unbutton his broadfall, his intent became clear. She swiped a long arm to grab the tin of bear grease, pressing three fingers into it. At these frigid temperatures it was sticky as pine tar, but once her hand warmed it, it liquefied nicely. She had used it to grease wagon axles and as a hair pomade, but never as she was now—coating the buckaroo saddle horn lovingly, as though it was a long, curved prick.
She fully expected Whit to settle himself down on the horn, so she gasped and fell on her behind when Whit suddenly took hold of Huntley by the upper arms and lifted him. Whit fell back in front of the pommel as well, setting Huntley down upon the saddle horn.
Huntley settled with a grunt. With half-closed eyes and a remote grin, he muttered, “Now I’m swinging under the pines.”
“That’s it, Major.” Whit encouraged his friend to bounce up and down on the horn, riding it like the native Californio Spaniards rode, with such short stirrups they were practically kneeling in the saddle. Belle curled herself around Whit’s broad back to watch, breathing steam against his neck. Huntley’s cock bobbed enticingly as he braced himself on the pommel and fucked the horn, his head thrown back in enjoyment. Whit whisked the tin of grease from Belle’s paw, and he greased up Huntley’s pole with two fists from stem to stern. “You like it when everyone admires your big cock. You liked it when I slapped this big tool.” He smacked it now in demonstration, and Huntley flinched with pleasure. “It gets bigger every time I spank it. Look at this big, fat, beautiful prick, just dripping with hunger. You’re riding that shaft like it’s a fat cock sliding up your ass.”
Belle reached around Whit to unbutton Huntley’s shirt. She wanted to see his nude chest as he lewdly corkscrewed up and down on the saddle horn. Yanking the edges of his shirt apart, she rubbed each tight, beaded nipple with her greasy thumbs then became afraid he’d orgasm right there in Whit’s fists, the way he twitched and hissed like a man possessed.
Whit applied a dollop of grease to Huntley’s glans, rotating his thumb about. “You liked having a long, thick cock up your ass, didn’t you, Hunt?”
Huntley grinned lopsided as though he were oiled, eyes barely focusing. “I like being speared by a red man’s long tool.”
“Well.” Whit grinned with an evil intent. “Then maybe you’d like spearing a red man.”
Belle was utterly taken aback when Whit rotated like an acrobat so he faced her, gripped the base of Huntley’s cock, and sat right down on him.
Gyrating his hips lasciviously, Whit sank down in pleasure with heavily lidded eyes. Huntley, however, seemed to wake up, cinching Whit’s hip in his claw and groaning something fierce.
“Whit,” Belle said in awe.
Whit grinned at her casually, as though he were merely out on a lark shooting squirrels and not getting fucked up the anus like a deviant sodomite.
And it roused Belle to untold heights of lust. It was true—Europeans certainly had different and interesting ways of doing things, and this was a trick that could only have been learned in Europe. But how could she participate? She could suck—
“Climb aboard, Miss Belle.” Whit hitched his chin to indicate she should…what? What was he referring to? What was she supposed to—Grabbing her by the arms, Whit lifted her so she straddled him as well, the wet mush of her pussy mashing up against the underside of his massive cock. Oh, Dear Lord. Did he mean to fuck her with that thing? Belle boldly bucked her hips up and down across the enormous pole.
“You fill me with awe and envy,” Whit said, his gaze fixated on her face.
She recognized that as a translation from her pillow book. Whit must have found some willing riceman miner to translate the book for him. That he had the intellectual curiosity to accomplish this sent a rush of pride through Belle, and she grabbed his cock at the base to point it toward her cunt. She struggled to remember other lines from the book. “Even though you know this is wicked of you.” With a grunt and much eye-rolling, she impaled herself on the mammoth penis.
She had never been filled like this before, and she found she had to relax, to allow the walls of her cunt to expand to accommodate him. Perhaps because she’d once given birth, this occurred swiftly, and she was soon vaulting herself up and down around the giant appendage.
Whit said, “But I suppose this dream of mine is rather absurd.”
Belle discovered if she merely hovered with her pussy enclosing Whit’s cock, the jouncing Huntley was giving him from behind set up a rhythm. In tandem the two men fucked her. All she had to do was grip Whit’s shoulders and squat over him in order to be reamed like a salacious prostitute. “Only you can see what feelings hide within my heart.”
Whit’s eyes sparkled. “Now I can tell what she is really like.”
“Oh, by Saint Michael!” Huntley growled. “Will you stop it with your asinine poetry and just let me—ah!”