Heather Brown - Hitchhike wife

The gun looked enormous to me, even across the waterhole. The hole at the end of the barrel seemed so huge that I imagined something the size of a cannon ball must come out of it. I could just see my tits splattered all aver the surface of the waterhole that had saved my life, my murderer my temporary savior.

I didn't want to die. I wanted to get out of this mess and find my way back home. I wanted to be waiting for Phil when he came back off the wad – not dead, my guts deposited meaninglessly over some desert where nobody would ever find my body. I could see my corpse being devoured by vultures within hours after my life ended. It seemed such a waste. Especially when, despite everything, I still loved Phil and I was sure he loved me. Why waste it over a disagreement with an old desert prospector that I'd never see again?

"All right," I said wearily. "Anything. Anything. Anything you want, old timer."

"Prospectin' Charlie," he said. "That's what they call me. Prospectin' Charlie. I been working this desert and the mountains around it for nigh on to thirty years. It's a hard life." He waved the gun.

"Now get on out of that water so I kin see your Goddamn body. I wanna see your sweet little cunt without all that sand coverin' it up. I been dreamin' about cunt ever night for the last three months. And so had Hector. Mules is sterile, but that don't mean they don't like to fuck. He gets even hornier than I do. Goddamn beast's had a hard-on at least a month straight. I'd jack him off, but mule-cum stinks worse 'n a skunk. Nothin' gets that smell out."

Reflexively I looked toward the rear of the mule. Prospectin' Charlie was telling the truth.

Between the animal's haunches a huge, long, blackish tube swung, closely resembling the cock of the horse I'd seen in the salesman's dirty magazine. Instantly my mind recalled the pictures in the magazine, especially the centerfold, the one in which the close-up of the girl's cunt was split by the huge dark prick.

Could that be what Prospectin' Charlie had in mind? Did he want me to fuck his mule, like that poor, sick girl in the magazine?

No, no, I tried to tell myself. Maybe adult-book publishers were that perverse… but not prospectors wandering around in the middle of the desert. Everybody knew publishers were just out for the holy buck. But grizzled old prospectors? They were part of the American legend. Hardy individualists who broke away from the rat race and went out on their own, searching for a dream. The embodiment of the pioneer spirit. The kind of men who made our country great down through the years. The kind of men committed to principle, even though someone like Prospectin' Charlie could probably make more working in a car wash than prospecting.

"Get on out of that water and show me and Hector your pussy, bitch. We been waitin' a long time," Prospectin' Charlie said, shattering my illusions. "'Specially Hector."

I waded towards the shore, feeling my nakedness gradually exposed until I stood totally bare on the sand. I could feel the water dripping from my nipples, and the bush of my cunt trickling my heart pounded in my ears like a tom-tom drum.

"Land o' Goshen," he slurped, "lookit them tits 'n' ass, Hector. Yessiree bob, tits 'n' ass, tits 'n' ass." In his tattered trousers I could see a bulge the size of a softball. "Hector, you're gonna have yourself a high ole time."

"But what about you?" I asked desperately. "Don't you want to fuck me? I can see your hard-on."

"Maybe later," he said with a tobacco-stained grin, "after Hector gets through."

"But a mule," I gagged, trying through any means to change his mind. "Do you want to get in my cunt after a mule's come in it?"

"It's only fittin'," he maintained. "See, I got a confession to make to you. I ain't been totally chaste out here."

"You mean you've been jacking off?" I asked knowingly, trying to achieve some kind of intimacy between us so he would take pity on me.

"Better'n that," he leered. "I been fuckin' ole Hector in the ass."

"Uhg!" I spat some imaginary bile from my mouth.

"Don't knock it 'less you tried it," he winked. "Which a course you never could since you ain't got no dick between them pretty legs of yours. Fact of the matter is that a mule's ass is tighter'n a woman's cunt. Maybe not as sweet – I mean you wouldn't wanna eat it the way you do a woman's pussy – but plenty tight for good fuckin'. And I fucked Hector plenty the last three months. He's taken plenty of jizz up his old mule's ass."

"Unnnnhhh!" I gagged. "What's that got to do with me?" My pussy was spasming the same way my heart had been pounding when I'd thought he was going to shoot me.

"Well, if you'd let me finish before you made that disgusting sound, I'd a told you what I been doin' ain't fair on account a ale Hector ain't had a similar chance to get his rocks off. I mean, ain't no way I'm gonna let him fuck me in the ass! 'Specially not with that horse-cock of his 'n that he inherited from his daddy."

"But my pussy is fair game for him," I spat. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Say, I thought mebbe your brain might be affected by bein' broiled by the desert sun," he said with an obscene grin, "but I see you're thinkin' right good. Yep, right good. You got everything 100 per cent straight."

"Your mule's going to fuck me," I said fatalistically, "or you'll blow my brains out."

"Kee-rect," he said, spitting the second syllable out simultaneously with a wad of wet tobacco. "And I'm gonna watch… either way. With or without your head. Jes' so long as my aim is good enough to miss your cunt, you ain't got no chance with me and Hector. Now get over on your hands and knees like an animal so Hector can fuck you."

"And if I don't?" I bluffed.

The desert air shattered with the sound of a him cocking the barrel of the gun looked like it could swallow me. It was the deadliest thing I'd ever seen in my life. Was there anything I wouldn't do to avoid seeing it explode in my face?

To answer my own question I shifted my gaze again to the rear of the mule. Between its legs I could clearly see its hose-like cock suspended from its belly. It looked horrible… awful… huge… enormous… But as terrifying as it seemed, I knew one thing. It couldn't blow my head off. All it could do was fill me with cum.

"I'll count to three," she said. "And if by then I don't see you turned around on all fours and your sweet little cunt starin' me in the face, then, pow, your tits and brains are Jell-O. Maybe I forgot to tell you, but this here's a scatter gun."

I was in absolute panic. The thought of having the top half of my body reduced to hamburger by buckshot immobilized my brain. I couldn't think.

"One…" he started counting with an evil leer. Only my cunt saw me through. It was the only part of my body that seemed to be functioning. Even my heartbeat had seemed to stop. My breath was frozen as I stood paralyzed by fear. But my pussy… my cunt… throbbed electrically, as though it were pulsing a last-ditch message in Morse Code about what I should do.

Do it. Do it. Do it, my cunt seemed to be telling me. Save your life. Do it. Do it.

I flopped reflexively to the ground, feeling the sand grind instantaneously against my hands and knees. On "three", I swiveled my body around, presenting my ass to Prospectin' Charlie. Before he could get trigger-happy, I pulled apart my thighs and tipped my pelvis, shooting my open pussy straight at him from the rear.

"Oh, Jeeee-sus!" he moaned in obvious ecstasy at seeing my cunt. "Will you look at that, Hector? Bet you'd eat through ten pounds of shit fer that."

The mule whinnied at his owner's vulgarity, pawing on the ground with his hoof. I knew from the commotion that it was only a matter of moments until the inevitable.

It all happened so fast after that that it's still a blur in my mind. One second the mule was braying a few feet away from me… and the next he was braying in my ear, his hot breath reeking of oats.