Archive of Our Own

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The hot midday sun blinded Jon as he rode into town. He tugged at the brim of his Stetson and gazed down the dusty street, his eyes seeking the small crowd of ranchers gathered outside the sheriff’s office. As he rode past them, their chatter quieted, and he sensed their eyes following him all the way down to the stables.

“Don’t take no heed, mister,” the stablehand called to him. “There’s a smuggler on the loose. Them guys been looking at every man riding to town today.” He was a young boy clad in dirt, but his hands were amply skilled - as Jon dismounted his sorrel horse, the kid gathered his reins and reata with ease, wrapping the leather around his rough hands.

“What sort of smuggler?” Jon asked. He was fiddling with a small bag of tobacco, pinching himself a thumb-sized portion. As he chewed the bits, he casually glanced back at the men. They were still watching him, he noted, although they had resumed talking.

“All sorts, I hear,” the kid said. “Alcohol, tobacco - just what you’d expect, mister. But them ranchers looking for their horses. Two went missing last night.”

“Not from this stable, I hope,” Jon said as he handed the boy a coin.

The stablehand bit down on the metal. “No, mister,” he assured him, his blue eyes twinkling boldly, “good metal keeps me awake after all.”

Jon wrinkled his nose, but he couldn’t help a wry smile as he handed the kid another coin. “Make sure she’s groomed,” Jon said, and the boy nodded eagerly as he stuffed the cash into his pocket, “and I better not catch you in the saloon later.”

“No, mister, I’ll be here all night,” he promised as he guided Jon’s horse into the stable.

Jon shook his head, stuffed his thumbs into his leather belt, and slowly made his way toward the Golden Grain saloon.

Jon had been sleeping rough for the past few weeks, and it showed. Mud clung onto the bottoms of his chaps, and dust covered his canvas jacket, dulling the cactus spines still embedded in the fabric. His face too was unwashed, and he swiftly rubbed his cheeks with his bandana before stepping into the saloon.

Well, isn’t this a nice change from the plains, Jon thought as he gazed around.

The false front had made the place look large, but as expected from a small town the saloon hall was rather tight, consisting of just a main bar and four round tables, only one of them occupied. Still, the wooden flooring and striped wallpaper were better than his frost covered blankets, and Jon breathed in the smell of bourbon and dust before letting go of the air in a thankful sigh.

He walked past the two men playing cards, offering them a polite nod, before he rested onto the countertop of the bar, his eyes roaming the row of bottles on display. “I’ll start with some beer,” Jon said, licking his lips in anticipation, and he glanced to his right to catch the eyes of the bartender. Only, there was no man waiting for his order - instead, he caught sight of a woman.

She was a short, pale thing with silver hair and violet eyes. Dressed akin a painted lady, her bodice was cut low over her bosom and, Jon noticed as he leaned further over the bar, her skirt was scandalously short, the hemline riding just above her knees. He could even see her petticoat, and beneath it the black of her net stockings.

“Getting it all?” she asked dryly as she leaned against the counter.

Jon scooted back a little and pushed his hat up with a nod. “Miss,” he greeted, “afraid I didn’t see you there.”

“Think you saw more than expected,” she replied boldly. Her lips matched the red of her dress, and they tucked back into a smile, revealing her white teeth. “What did you want again?”

“Don’t worry, miss,” Jon said in haste, “I’ll wait for the bartender, I know no rush.”

“Why wait when you’ve got it?” she asked and cocked her head to the side. “Beer, you say? Fifteen cents that is.” She grabbed a glass off the shelf and started filling it with the amber alcohol.

Jon rolled the lump of tobacco around his mouth as he watched her. In his head, he was trying to calculate his coin, but he already knew he would not be able to afford even a dance with a lady like her.

It was as if she’d read his mind because as she placed the heavy glass in front of him, she said: “Don’t worry, boy - I charge nothing for entertaining.”

“Is that so?” Jon asked, “Sounds like bad business to me.”

“I charge nothing ‘cause I do no entertaining,” she corrected him. She rested onto the counter as she watched him sip the lukewarm beer, his lips hungrily gulping down the alcohol. “I own the saloon.”

Jon barely managed to turn to the brass spittoon before tobacco and beer flew out of his mouth. He slammed the glass back onto the counter and grabbed at his bandana as he coughed into the fabric. “You’re the owner?” he repeated in awe, his voice hoarse.

The woman laughed and rolled her shoulders, causing her wavy locks to dance around her collarbone. “Got myself a charmer here!”

It sure is unexpected, Jon thought, swallowing the last bits of harsh tobacco spittle on his tongue. It scratched warmly at his throat. “How’d you go about that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Had a husband,” she said, “and now I don’t.” She rested her chin on the palm of her hand as she watched him, and in her violet eyes he saw a glimmer of amusement.

“Feels like a longer story than that,” Jon spoke, but he didn’t press her for details as he took a sip of the beer. A man knew better than to ask another man of his crimes. He couldn’t even fathom the idea of begging details from a woman. Still, it was with curious eyes that he glanced upon her.

“Never seen you around before,” she spoke and twisted a lock around her finger. “Most cattlemen come and go every year. Staying for a while?”

“Just the night,” Jon said, “the eves are growing cold.”

“Should be no problem for a hardened man like yourself,” she said, and Jon felt her gaze slip from his face down his body.

He straightened up a little, making himself taller as he rested the toes of his boots onto the bronze foot-rail that encircled the spittoon. “Still nothing beats a soft bed,” Jon spoke, and he licked his thin lips as he added, “and good company.”

“Nights can be lonely, can they?” she asked, cocking her brows at him. “Well, you probably don’t want to hear of it, but the parlour house was closed. Sheriff’s got a well meaning lady at his side now. She doesn’t take kindly to so-called soiled doves.”

Jon shook his head. “I never paid for no company,” he assured her as she mentioned the ladies of the night.

“Then how’d you manage company at all?” the woman teased as she stretched her arms to push herself back off the counter, causing her bosom to rise.

Her fleshy breasts were pushed so tightly together Jon could almost get lost in the shadow of her cleavage. Still, he remained perfectly polite as he replied: “With my good charms, miss.”

“You hide them well,” she replied.

“Don’t be fooled by a dirty pair of chaps,” Jon sad as he bashed the leather with his hands. Dry mud fell off in flakes and landed on the floorboard. “I’m perfectly capable of, ah, treating a lady.”

The woman smirked. “I am sure you can treat a lady - it’s how you treat her that intrigues me.” As he put down his empty glass, she didn’t wait but topped it up with beer. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“I’m Jon,” Jon replied. “And you, miss?”

“Daenerys,” the woman spoke. She watched him drink, her fingertips tapping to the chipped wood of the counter. “Was it a bed you sought?”

“You’ve got a recommendation?” he joked and licked the beer of his lips.

“I’d say the hotel, but since the parlour closed the girls have all gone there to rest. They’ve been letting no men inside for over a week now.” She shrugged. “Fearing business would continue as usual, I suppose.”

“Well, miss, I’ve not been to town for weeks, but I still recall beds being needed outside the hotels,” Jon spoke. He leaned in, looking into Daenerys’ eyes as he asked: “Where’d you sleep at night, miss?”

Though Daenerys blushed at his crass question, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she folded her arms and leaned in too, staring into Jon’s grey eyes as she said: “I see that charm of yours, mister, but I don’t share my room with just any man.”

“Is my luck,” he spoke and reached out for her. His roughened fingertips dragged down Daenerys’ soft cheek, and she let him, even allowing his thumb to brush across her full, painted lips. “See, I happen to be not just any man.”

“What kind of man you happen to be?” she asked, letting his thumb push between her lips to her teeth as she spoke. Once they closed back around the tip, he felt her give him a light suck.

Jon felt bold at the sight. He cracked his neck and pushed his thumb further in until it rested on her tongue. “Know of those smugglers the town’s been talking about?” he asked in a low voice, and he waited for her to nod. “Well, might happen I be one of them.”

As his finger popped free of her lips, Daenerys licked her teeth. Her eyes seemed to have darkened, he thought, as she uncrossed her arms and reached up to grab at his hat. Her fingertips closed around the brim as she pushed it up, allowing some of his curly, black locks to fall down across his forehead. “Are you threatening me?” she asked, her own voice a whisper.

Jon could look at nothing but her alluring eyes as he replied: “I’m only stating some facts.”

“Is that right?” she spoke. “Well, here’s a fact for you, boy-” Her free hand swiftly pushed beneath the counter, and before Jon had time to look down, a revolver was pushed to his chest.

Daenerys’ finger rested on the trigger as her eyes sparkled. “No man comes in my saloon to threaten me. Think I’m some painted lady ready to undress myself? You’ve played a losing hand.” She leaned over the counter, looking up at him as she spoke: “Hands up.”

Jon swallowed. He slowly lifted his arms into the air, faint sweat starting to form at his hairline. I am a fool, he thought, yet it was not just worry that made his heart beat faster. It was the way in which Daenerys moved; she slipped atop the counter, one leg following the other, and she pushed herself to sit on the edge, her legs hanging down each side of him. Her position made her petticoat slipper up, and he had a clear view of her garter belt and, more enticing, her uncovered sex.

It seemed she knew what he was looking at, for she pressed the cold barrel of the revolver tighter to his chest as she smirked: “You’re a smuggler, you say? What’s stopping me from walking you to the sheriff’s office.”

“Suppose he’s out,” Jon spoke, his hands still in the air whilst his eyes were very much roaming her body. He didn’t realise until now how hungry he truly was for company.

“Suppose he is,” Daenerys nodded, “but I know plenty of men who’d like their hands on a smuggler, with or without our sheriff present. Might be only scraps will remain to be judged by the law.”

At her words, Jon shuddered lightly. His gaze flickered between her sex, the shining revolver, and the gun at his own belt. As if on cue, Daenerys reached over and claimed that one too, pointing it at his boots. I shouldn’t have put my guard down ‘round a woman, he thought. Especially not one this sly.

“I could also just make you dance,” she said, skilfully swinging his revolver around her finger before pointing the barrel back at his boots. “Women like a man who can dance.”

“Look, miss, I’m sorry if I caused offence,” Jon spoke. The sweat was now dripping down his cheeks and yet, his eyes still sought her sex. She wants me to look, he realised as she scooted closer to the edge, her legs spreading further around him, She wants me to want her. “All I wanted was a bath and a bed. I’ll have neither and take my leave.”

Daenerys bit down on her lower lip as she seemed to contemplate his words. For a moment, he felt his heartbeat quicken, so much so that his throat was throbbing under the rapid pulse of his blood. But then she lowered the gun.

“I’ll get you a bath,” she said, swinging his gun around her finger one last time before stuffing it into her cleavage. She pressed the barrel of her own revolver to her lips, pressing a wet kiss to the metal as she eyed him. “Seems like you’ve been… sweating.”

Jon grabbed at his bandana as he wiped his face dry, thinking, I’ve never met a woman like her before.

True to her words, Daenerys pulled him a bath.

As Jon entered the small room upstairs from the saloon, his gaze fell on the rounded copper tub. It was filled to the brim, the water so hot that steam was rolling off its surface. On a wooden stool nearby, a sponge and a piece of soap awaited him, and hung across the bed frame in the corner he noted a thin sheet of a towel.

This must be a guest chamber, he thought as he shrugged off his jacket and slung it onto the bed. The duvet looked freshly washed, he thought, a smell of soap lingering on the linen. Did she prepare it all for me? Although tempting, he didn’t dare to hope this to be the truth, and he started undoing the buttons of his shirt in a swift move. Still, his gaze kept seeking the bed, wondering how soft it would be to sleep in. Town really is nothing like the plains, he thought, and then wondered when he’d gotten so soft.

For all his life, Jon had only known the dusty prairie. Since childhood, he’d been brought up to handle cattle, and for years all he knew was riding beside his father, herding the animals for whatever ranch would pay and feed them. Once his father passed, he had a short stint doing calf roping and bull riding at various rodeos, but the coin was never enough to keep his stomach full for long. Nowadays, he travelled for work, settling only for months at a time as he found himself restless the moment his pay was steady.

I am not made for settled life, he reminded himself as he undid his chaps and let them fall to the floor. He pulled off his boots, then the blue denim jeans, leaving him naked before the bath.

Jon was a man of average height, with broad shoulders and a thick beard as raven black as the curls on his head. As he leaned over the tub, the steam slippered across his scarred chest, the marks left by angry bulls that had managed to throw him off after a heated ride. He reached in, his fingers brushed through the warm water, causing his skin to redden, and he thought, I should enjoy this luxury whilst it lasts.

Stepping into the water, Jon shivered from the heat. It seemed to travel up his naked skin, making his cock stir. He only slowly lowered himself into the tub, allowing his body to adjust to the heat little by little, until he finally slipped below the surface fully.

Jon let out a sigh. He pushed himself against the raised back of the tub as he rested his head, the tips of his hair dipping into the clean water. The last time he bathed was two months earlier, and it had cost him fifty cents. With water priced higher than a few rounds of beer, it was scarcely something he could afford often, but once he wriggled his toes and fingers in the heat, he remembered why it was worth every coin.

“This must be how the rich live,” he pondered out loud and closed his eyes. He wanted to relax, let the dirt slip off of him, and return to the plains refreshed. But once his eyes were shut and his body wrapped in warmth, his thoughts returned to Daenerys’ exposed cunt, and his cock stirred.

She may be an owner, but she looks like a painted lady, Jon thought, remembering how deep her cleavage had been. Her breasts had looked full and round, and her waist small, her body perfectly held in place by a corset. He wondered what kind she wore. Was it laced and decorated? Plain and sturdy? Perhaps, he thought, she was just born looking like that.

Whatever the truth was, it made his blood boil. His wriggling fingers soon rested on his stomach and then, as his mind started undressing Daenerys, they shortly travelled further south.

The skirt she could leave on, he decided. Same with the petticoat. Though a lot of fabric, he imagined it would be easy enough to push it up, holding it aside as he explored her wet cunt with his tongue. He wondered if a married woman tasted any different from a lady. He wondered if she was still married. He wondered what happened to her husband.

But mostly, he wondered if she was any good at fucking, and as he grabbed his cock, he decided that she was. As he thought of how tight she would feel around him, he started working his length, dragging his fingertips up and down his fat girth as he imagined her moan. The scene in the saloon played out in his head, but the whole thing was different:

There, she did not manage to grab her gun. Instead, he took hold of her wrists before she reached the counter, and he dragged her atop the table, spreading her legs before him. She wriggled, but she moaned with pleasure, begging him to show her what a bad man he could be when he dipped his tongue between her legs to taste her. When he fucked her, it was with urge, and the harder he went, the more she wanted.

Jon grunted as he stroked his cock in a hurry, the blood pulsing through his member, putting him on edge.

Then, he heard the slam of a door, and as he blinked his eyes open, he saw Daenerys. “Seems the bath’s making you dirtier than before,” she commented.

Jon quickly let go of his cock as he sat up in the tub, his cheeks bright red. “Miss,” he said, so keen to explain himself that he scarcely noted that she was naked. However - she was.

As Daenerys lowered the jug of water she was holding, she exposed her heavy, round breasts, both her pink nipples sitting stiffly in the air. As his eyes sought down her frame, he took in the view of her narrow waist, her broad hips, her fleshy thighs, and, between them, her neat, pink cunt.

Jon swallowed, his cock throbbing with need. “Miss-” he started, but he knew no words that could describe what he wished to say. So, as she smirked at him, he remained quiet, and he merely watched her as she approached, topping up the tub with the water from the jug.

“I thought you might’ve forgotten how to wash,” she said boldly, and her gaze fell on the soap and sponge still untouched on the stool. “Seems I was right. Jon, water alone won’t do much. These here will help.” She placed the jug on the floor as she reached over to grab the items.

Jon, still baffled at her nakedness, stared up at her with bewildered eyes. “I thought you said you took no coin for entertaining,” he finally spoke.

Daenerys’ red lips pulled back in a perfect smile as she dipped the sponge into the water, then rubbed soap onto it. “This is true, I said so,” she nodded, “and it is still the truth.” She reached into the water, grabbing his arm to raise it above the surface and then, ever so gently, she started rubbing the sponge alongside his dusty skin. The slow, circular movements of her hand caused the sponge to grab onto the dirt, and Jon watched it wash off into the tub.

“So you are not here to present yourself?” he asked and, as she shook her head, he licked his lips. “What then?”

“I suppose I liked the look of you well enough,” she said. She dipped the sponge into the water again and gestured for his other arm. As Jon raised it, she took a hold of his wrist and started washing his flesh. She had to lean slightly over the tub to reach, causing her breasts to sway before his eyes.

Jon swallowed once more, his eyes on her nipples. “Are you still married?” he asked.

Daenerys laughed at his question. “Do you worry if I am pure?” she asked.

Jon reddened. “It is not that,” he spoke, but he did not explain himself. Taking another man’s wife is a sure way of getting shot, he thought, although he still couldn’t look away from her tempting breasts. They looked so plump, he thought. So perfect for sucking.

Daenerys dropped his arm back into the water, and she grabbed at the stool. She pulled it close to the tub and seated herself as she started working on his chest. The sponge caressed his neck, his collarbone, his pecs. As it slipped across his scars, Daenerys hesitated, her pink tongue shortly crossing her lips. “Do they hurt?”

Jon glanced down. “No, they are old.”

“Bull fighting?”

“How’d you know?” He blinked at her surprised.

She smiled. “My husband was a bullfighter too in his youth. That is, until he got shot.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon spoke, the only words he knew to say when confronted with death.

But Daenerys shook her head, the sponge dipping lower to the top of his stomach. “Don’t be,” she said. “He was a raging alcoholic, and less a man than myself. Besides,” she smirked at this, “I quite liked the shooter.”

Jon remembered how she swung his gun around in the saloon earlier that day, and he whispered: “You shot him.”

Daenerys just smiled, but she neither confirmed nor denied his allegations. Instead, she just pushed her hand further and further down his body, causing Jon to gasp. As the sponge crossed his cock, he involuntarily jerked his hips upwards to meet her touch. “Ah!” she said, the smile on her lips deepening, “I think I’ve found the dirtiest part of you, mister.”

As Daenerys started stroking his cock with the sponge, batching his length in soap and water, Jon sunk deeper below the surface, his lips parting in a moan. He glanced at her face, her cheeks pink and her violet eyes confident. She is some woman, he thought. It takes a special kind of woman to run a saloon, but a bolder one to make a move on a stranger.

His cock was throbbing under her hand. It was not just the way she touched him, but where she touched - the sponge was dragged across his length, then around his balls, before pulling all the way back up to his fat cockhead. As she worked him, Jon got in such a heat that he wasn’t sure where the sponge ended and her soft fingers began. It all melted to one beneath the water.

He pressed his head back onto the backrest of the tub as he grunted: “Does it not worry you?”

“What?” she asked, cocking her head.

“That I’m a smuggler,” Jon spoke, reminding her of their earlier conversation.

Daenerys’ hand on his cock paused. For a moment, Jon worried he had spoken in err and ruined his own chances. Then, she stood up and grabbed a hold of the sides of the tub as she stepped her foot into the water.

At the addition of another person in the small tub, the water rose and started slipping down the sides. As Daenerys stepped her other leg in, the water ran across the floorboards, all the way to the door. Still, she didn’t seem to mind - her eyes were focused on Jon’s shocked eyes as she lowered herself into the tub, her naked body pressing atop of his.

“Oh Jon,” she smiled, and she dragged the sponge across his face, dirtying it with the dust from his cheeks. “Are all men fools, or are you one of a kind?”

Jon furrowed his brows at her question. “You dare calling me a fool?” he said, his hands pushing up across her naked back. He traced her spine all the way to her nape, his fingertips tickling her soft hair.

Daenerys laughed, and she leaned forward, her bosom pushing to his pecs as she placed a small kiss on his nose. Once again, her movement caused water to slosh all around them, but by now Jon scarcely noticed. As her lips hovered his, all he could think about was fucking her roughly like he had in his fantasy.

“Oh Jon,” she said again, and she pressed the sponge to his face again, almost teasing him as she pushed it across his lips, blocking him from kissing her. Her other hand slipped down across his chest, further past his stomach, and then between his legs. Her small hand closed around the fat girth of his cock, and she started stroking him, making him moan to the wet sponge. “I hear you’ve been speaking to the stablehand. He should know ‘bout those smugglers. After all, he’s one himself.”

Jon groaned, partly in confusion, partly in pleasure as Daenerys’ hand worked him even quicker. I don’t understand, he thought, I just don’t understand. His teeth closed down onto the sponge, his tongue tasting soap and water, but he needed something to grab onto as Daenerys’ continued to jerk him in her own quick rhythm.

“Ah yes,” she smiled, clearly enjoying the sight of Jon wriggling under her. She tucked her legs on either side of him as she led his cock to her cunt, rubbing herself back and forth onto his cockhead, using it to pleasure her nub. She moaned softly, the sound of her voice causing Jon to suckle on the sponge. His cheeks reddened as her jerking motions quickened once more as she continuously forced his cock to pleasure her. “I should know of smugglers. You see, I arrange for alcohol and tobacco to be brought across the border.”

She is a criminal, Jon thought, staring into her violet eyes, she is what I only pretended to be. Truly, Jon normally got away with it too - but for a brush with the law a few months back, he had always remained good, earning all his coin from honest work. But he liked to tell tales of himself as an outlaw akin Billy the Kid himself. It seemed to fascinate the ladies and make them want him so much more.

But not once had it backfired like it had today, and as he opened his lips to speak, Daenerys just pushed the sponge further into hit mouth, keeping him quiet. “Do not talk, mister,” she instructed, leading his hard cock between the spread lips of her cunt, “just fuck me.”

Despite the resistance from the water, Daenerys managed to wriggle herself down onto his throbbing member. As it stretched her, Jon closed his eyes in pleasure, her tight, warm wetness closing around him like nothing had before. Her inner muscles tugged and pulled at his cock, at once pushing him out and inviting him further in. The movements caused him to shiver with lust.

As Daenerys rode him, the water in the tub splashed about them. Jon felt his curly locks getting soaked to the point of them hanging down his face, sticking to his cheeks. If he had been dirty before the bath, he felt dirtier now as sweat formed at his hairline and glistened its way down to his brows.

I am fucking an outlaw, he thought, groaning around the sponge as Daenerys leaned in, her lips by his ear, moaning in pleasure. I am fucking an outlaw. I am fucking an outlaw. It was as if the more the words repeated in his brain, the hornier they made him. Soon, he couldn’t stand just sitting like a bystander, and he spat the sponge from his lips as he grabbed a hold of her hair.

Dragging her head backwards, Jon leaned forward to attack her neck with his lips, suckling and licking and nibbling on her pale skin until it turned red. Daenerys groaned and grabbed at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she rode him with furor.

“Yes,” she whispered, “like that, Jon, like that!”

Encouraged by her words, Jon dipped his lips further down to her breasts, licking her stiff nipples before giving each of them a soft pull with his teeth. As Daenerys moaned, he wrapped her silver locks around his fingers, holding her in place as his other hand sought her buttocks. He grabbed at them greedily as he rammed into her.

“I wouldn’t have thought you to be a dirty lady,” he spoke to her skin, licking his way back up from her breasts to her chin. He tugged some more on her hair, causing her to gasp, and as her lips parted, he dipped his tongue into her mouth.

She tasted of bourbon, he noted, but the crass taste of alcohol soon mixed with the sweetness of the soap on his tongue. They kissed sloppily, their hands searching each other in need. Daenerys’ fingers, no longer satisfied with merely grabbing onto Jon’s shoulders, started stroking his chest, feeling the bump of his scars beneath her soft palms. “I knew from the moment you stepped in my saloon,” she whispered, pushing his tongue about. She could taste tobacco on his teeth, and she greedily licked every ounce of it off, liking the manly taste, “I knew you were a good man.”

“Don’t feel like a good one now,” he chuckled, his hot breath slippering across her lips.

Daenerys smiled, pushing at his chest until he leaned back against the tub once more. “That can be arranged,” she said. As Jon eyed her in confusion, his eyes partly closed in lust, she explained: “I need another man. Someone whose face is not plastered all over some wanted poster. Someone who can get past the border and back unnoticed.” As she spoke, she rocked herself harder onto him, her hands grabbing at his shoulders.

Jon groaned. “You want me in?”

“You want in?” she returned the question hotly. “There will be plenty of coin for you. Free liquor. A bath always waiting when you return.”

Jon breathed in sharply through his nose as he glanced back up at her, his cock throbbing. “And a fuck?” he asked, and Daenerys chuckled, pressing her lips back onto his.

“As many as you can handle.”

At her words, Jon could no longer hold back - he grabbed onto her waist as he started pulling her on and off his cock, rocking her body about as if she weigh nothing.

Daenerys, surprised at Jon’s suddenly eagerness, moaned as she was continuously fucked, her inners stretched again and again by his fat, forceful cock. Before she knew it, she came, her muscles tightening roughly around him as her body shuddered from the orgasm.

Jon, feeling her coming, started jerking himself into her with more need. As Daenerys softened between his hands, her body spent, he fucked her with added haste. Then, at once, he came as well, filling her needy cunt with his cum.

As they sunk back into the warm water, dirtied with mud, dust and their juices, Daenerys pressed her head to his chest as she rested, whispering: “We’ve got some deal then?”

And Jon wrapped his arms around her, watching the ceiling as he took in a shuddering breath and said: “We do.”

The stablehand waited for Jon to mount his horse before handing him the reins. “There you go, mister. She is as good as new.”

Jon tipped his hat with a grateful nod. “I see you kept her well. No smugglers in the night,” he commented.

The boy smirked and crossed his arms as he said: “Funny things they are, them smugglers. You never know when you meet one, and when you know it’s too late.”

Too late indeed, Jon thought as he turned his horse and slowly started riding down the street. As he passed by the Golden Grain saloon, he spotted Daenerys in the doorway, her arms folded as she watched him ride by. He was surprised to see her as it was early morning still, the sun barely peeking up in the horizon, but he took off his hat as he nodded his head kindly.

“Thank you for the return of my revolver,” he said and patted at his belt.

“I know a good deal when I see one,” she replied and smirked, “seems like you do too.”

“Can’t wait for my return,” Jon said, “wonder what I will come back to.”

At this, Daenerys lifted her skirts, exposing her cunt to him, and Jon blushed and swiftly put his hat back on, tucking the brim well down over his eyes as he glanced about, making sure no one saw them. “Guess you know now,” she called, and as he galloped out of town, it was to the sweet sound of her laughing.