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..-HerrOttoFlick, U.K., December 2016(Author's P.S.: To get a more immersive experience when writing, I like to listen to themed music, which I highly reccomend you do as well- for this story I listened mainly to a compilation of Ennio Morricone's theme music, a live album of the Spaghetti Western Orchestra, and my own playlist of Western cinema scores, all of which can be found online. It really helps me get in the mood, so do give it a go!)(Author's P.P.S: The more astute readers may notice that the story is filled with a large number of cinematic references to classic films of the genre, in this case Westerns- have fun spotting them!)Fort Worth, Summer 1879It started, as it always seemed to, with a drink.It had been a hard run, and a long run. They had left San Antonio in the early morning as usual, twenty men in trail denims, open shirts and stetsons with rugged, young horses and rifles slung over their backs, whipping three hundred head of cattle through the dust and heat of the. “I want you to ...” “Say it, Emily. Say what you want me to do.” He was inches away, his own heart drumming a fast beat in his chest as he waited for Emily to tell him what he wanted to hear. Unbidden, his hand reached up and cupped the back of Emily's head. His fingers massaged her nape, and Josh watched her eyes close and her lips part. He wanted to taste her again, to lick and nip at those luscious lips until he lost his mind in her. He knew it wouldn't take long. In the half-light, Josh felt Emily's fingers trail up his thigh, leaving sharp twinges of lust in their wake. Her light touch inflamed him even more and as her fingers moved up toward his hip, he wrapped his other hand around the column of her neck. Emily's eyes widened slightly in response to the collar of strong flesh, her fingers digging deliciously into his hip. She was so close to his throbbing member, still ruthlessly contained in his suddenly vice-like clothing. Josh leaned into Emily, his chest just grazing the.
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