("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age Eighteen, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: Mavrick1.txt Authors name: [lost] Story Title : "Maverick" (NEW!) PART 1 OF 2 It appears that some uncaring person has removed the author contact information from this story. Please keep in mind that the only payment that an author receives for their work is feedback. If you remove the author contact info they receive no comments, then they stop writing. PLEASE DON'T REMOVE THE AUTHOR INFORMATION FROM THE STORIES YOU READ. And take a moment to let an author know what you thought about their story. ********* "Balls to the Wall" ------------------- Bret Maverick squinted his beady little eyes at the man across the table, then down at the four cards lying on the table in front of him: the four, five and six of clubs, the deuce of spades. Then he glanced over at the other man's cards: pair of deuces -- hearts and diamonds -- king of spades, ace of hearts. "Well," he drawled, "My Pappy always said not to draw to an inside straight." He grinned. "But my Pappy didn't play much poker." He pushed a stack of chips into the center of the table. "Last card," the dealer said. He tossed a card on the other man's hand: the queen of clubs. "Pair of deuces," the dealer announced. "Your card, Mr. Maverick." He tossed the card down with a crisp snap. The three of spades. There was a gasp of appreciation. A straight. Maverick reached for the pot. "Thank you, gentlemen," Maverick grinned. "I believe I'll call it a night." "Wait a minute," his opponent growled. "Don't I get a chance to win my money back?" "In case you hadn't noticed," Maverick growled back, his eyes narrowing. "We've been docked for the last hour, it's three in the morning, and you, sir, are extremely intoxicated." Maverick stood up and pushed the chips to the dealer. "Put these on my tab." The dealer nodded. Maverick strode toward the door. The night air was cool; it was early spring here in Kentucky, the second week of May, and the weather hadn't warmed up quite yet. Maverick strode up to the front doors of the Galt House, carrying his small bag. He rang the bell at the front desk. "Room, sir?" The sleepy desk clerk asked. Maverick nodded. The clerk got a key from a box behind him. "Just sign in, sir. You'll have to carry your own baggage. No help this time o'night." "No problem," Maverick smiled. He checked the room number, and walked toward the staircase. Maverick lay in his bed; small hotel sounds around him. There was a knock at the door. He reached for his gun, and went to the door in his undershorts. "Who is it?" "Do you have a woman in that room?" a male voice asked. Maverick opened the door a crack. "Hell, no," he grimaced. The man grinned. "Want one?" He pulled a woman into view. She was plainly dressed, but overly made-up. "Two bucks for an hour; five bucks she's yours all night." Maverick grimaced. But there was something in the woman's face -- a sort of "help me please" look. "One moment," he said, pushing the door closed. He went back into the room, tugged on his trousers, and dug out a five-dollar gold piece from his pocket. Still carrying his pistol, he reopened the door. He flipped the coin to the man, and pulled the woman inside. The man scuttled down the hallway, not turning his back on Maverick. Maverick closed the door, and turned to face the woman. "So what would you like?" the woman asked, "You bought me for all night." "How old are you?" "Twenty-one." "Harrumph!" Maverick grunted. He grabbed her arm, and pulled her over to the washbowl. He dipped a cloth into the water, and scrubbed at her face. She meekly bore his ministrations. Her makeup off, Maverick stepped back and looked at her. "Seventeen -- at most," he growled. "Sixteen -- and a half," she said, softly. "What are you doing in this business?" "Making a buck. What business are you in?" "Never mind." Maverick paced across the floor. "Why are you mixed up with that pimp? You could make more money on your own." The girl sniffed. "He's not my pimp. He just works for the pimp." "Oh, really? Everybody gets a cut, I expect. Out of that five bucks how much do you get?" "Hey," the girl shouted. "Do you wanna talk or do you wanna fuck?" "Keep your voice down," Maverick hissed. "I bought your night. I'll do what I want to do." The girl turned. She had unfastened a drawstring somewhere; her dress dropped to the floor. Underneath she wore no foundation garments; she was naked before him. "So," she whispered, "what do you wanna do?" The sudden, bulging erection in Maverick's pants belied his intentions. She was quite attractive, with small but roundly full breasts, a slim shape with wide hips, and that patch of dark fur just over long, shapely legs. She stepped forward and touched him; one hand on his chest, the other groping him below. Her fingers found his rigid tool, and traced its length. "Ummmm," she whispered. "Are you sure you don't just want to shut up and screw?" She pushed him gently. He backed up, and stumbled against the bed. His knees let go, and he fell backwards on the bed. The girl unfastened his trousers expertly, and pulled them off, along with his undershorts. Maverick's cock stood proudly, raising its purple head. The girl pounced on it, holding it with both hands while she ran her tongue gingerly around the purple cockhead. Maverick groaned. She fastened her lips around the end of his shaft, and began to pump with her hands as she sucked gently on his prick. Maverick felt he was close to orgasm. She seemed to sense it; she eased up, slowing her strokes to a stop. She climbed up on him, straddling his hips, holding her cunt over his erection. She reached down and guided his organ to the entrance to her pussy, then lowered herself on the shaft. She began to pump with her legs, slowly sliding up and down his shaft, until she heard his breath get short. She stopped on the down stroke; his cock buried deep inside her. She paused a moment; his breath evened out. Then she began again, sliding up and down until he held his breath. Another stop. Maverick looked up. She had a twisted little smile on her face. She seemed to enjoy taking him right to the edge and stopping. She shook her shoulders. Her tits jiggled, temptingly. Maverick reached up and grasped her nipples, feeling them harden with his touch. She began to move again. Slowly sliding up and down. Maverick felt himself approach the edge of orgasm once again. He reached around her, pulling her torso to his, then rolled over. He thrust his hips, driving his cock deep inside her. He closed his eyes as the orgasm began; he felt himself pour out through his penis. When he opened his eyes again, she was looking at him, a little smile on her face. "Still wanna talk?" she asked. ===================================================================== Meanwhile, in another part of town... "Well, well, well, 'Big Jim' Melloy!" The voice was commanding. The big man at the bar turned to face the owner of the voice, some part of his indoctrination from prison taking effect. He recognized the man immediately, of course. It had only been five years since he had last seen Don Keno ... in San Francisco, running out of a warehouse, leaving him behind to be taken in. "Keno," he said, his voice low. "Long time, no see," Keno grinned at him. "When did you get out of the Big House?" "Two months ago." Keno turned his back on Keno, and picked up his drink. "Are your feelings that hard? You won't talk to your old boss?" Keno asked. He stepped up to the bar, and motioned for the bartender. "Nah," Melloy grimaced. "I've just left that life behind. I'm going straight. I've got a new job -- and the pay's good." "Not as good as you had in Frisco," Keno winked. "Better. Clean money, too. I don't want to spend any more time in the Federal pen." "What business are you in?" "Horses." "Stealing them?" Keno grinned. "Training them. Race horses." Melloy drank from his glass, stalling. "My boss is a rich fella from Jersey. He has a good stable, a couple of nice horses. He brought us here for a race this Monday." "Are you any good? As a trainer, I mean." Melloy grinned. "Yep. I'll have to say that I am." "Then maybe you can give me a tip." Melloy smiled grimly. "I hear you need one. Don't they call you 'Stubby' now?" Keno's face hardened. "Nobody calls me that. Nobody alive, that is." Melloy snorted derisively. "Well -- Stubby -- I'd like to say it's been a pleasure seeing you again, but... it hasn't." He looked at the smaller man and a grim smile spread over his face. Keno's face was ashen. He came to realize that Melloy was towering over him -- seeming to grow larger. He backed up a step. "Besides," Melloy continued, "there's something I believe I owe you." He moved quickly, his hand forming a fist even as it moved toward Keno's face. A short, quick swing -- long practiced under the guards' watchful eyes in prison. His knuckles contacted with Keno's chin, and Keno went out like a light. Keno's knees buckled, and Melloy caught his collapsing body by the collar. He draped Keno over the bar, his head on his crossed arms as if he were asleep. Then with a triumphant, self-satisfied smile on his face, he walked out of the bar. ........................................................ The dawn's early light was slipping through the drawn shutters. Bart Maverick's eyes cracked open. The train's rumbling was constant. The vibrations carried through to the bunk. Even in private luxury cars like this one the beds were not very comfortable -- or very large. Maverick felt himself teetering on the outside edge of the mattress. The warm body beside him stirred softly, and memories of the night before flooded his mind. He felt his body responding to his thoughts, his penis erecting, pressing into the crack of the woman's ass. She moaned gently in her slumber. He moved his hand, sliding it from her soft belly up to the swell of her breast. She pressed back against him, cuddling. "Bart, you're insatiable," she whispered. "Seven always was my lucky number," he whispered back. Using small movements, she turned over onto her back. Bart kissed her, his tongue darting over her lips and through her teeth to find hers. His hand massaged one breast, as he slipped one leg between hers. He moved slowly, sliding over her until he was between her legs; she lifted her knees, and Bart's cock slipped into her cunt. She moaned as he filled her up again, the base of his cock pressing against her clit. He lay there unmoving, enjoying the feel of his sword in her sheath, as they continued to kiss passionately. She began to move her hips, rocking her pelvis forward and back. His cock slid about an inch each way, rubbing against her clit. Her breath began to get shallow and fast, and her body tensed. Her tongue stopped responding to his because her attention was drawn to another part of her body. He broke the kiss, and nuzzled his face into her neck, holding her tightly. She held her breath; then her body quivered, and her pussy contracted around his cock. Maverick held still until the shivering stopped, then began to move his hips, a slow, steady stroke. His cock slid out, then deeply into her. As he neared orgasm, he held his head up, and looked at her face. She looked back at him through half-opened eyes, a small, happy smile on her face. Then he climaxed. He pushed himself deep inside her as his cock jerked, and the semen flowed. He dropped back down on top of her, his penis still inside her, but losing its stiffness. "Mmmmm," she moaned. "Are you sure you don't want to go for eight?" Outside, a conductor shouted "Next stooop, Louisville!" "Sorry," Bart mumbled. "That's where I'm heading." She smiled back at him. "Me, too. My husband's meeting me at Union Station." Maverick sighed. "Then I suppose we'd better get moving." She nodded. Neither of them moved. Bart's penis gave a little shudder, and began to inflate again. "Now, that's the kind of movement I like," she whispered. ........................................................ Bret turned over in the bed. The girl turned over, too, cuddling up to his bare back, one hand reaching over his waist. Bret felt her hand slide down, and her fingers wrap themselves around his flaccid penis. She held it gently; and it began to swell in her hand. "There's life in the old hoss yet," she whispered. "Wait a minute," Bret whispered back. "Why?" she insisted, tugging on his penis. "You paid for a whole night." "This may not be the time to mention it, but it's morning." "Not in here," she grinned. She rolled Bret over onto his back, and straddled him, sitting on his thighs, with both her hands around his tool. She stroked his cock, her thumbs rubbing his cockhead until he was fully erect. She moved forward, raising herself over his shaft and guided it into her hot, wet hole. She settled down on his pole, taking him completely inside her. She held still, grinning down at him. Bret looked up at her. "You look like a woman who wants something." "You might say that." She diddled with the hair on Bret's chest. "Suppose -- just suppose -- that I wanted to get away from my ... um, ... you know, the guy who keeps the money I make." "Your pimp," Bret prompted. She nodded. "My pimp. How do you suppose you might be able to persuade him?" Bret pondered. "One way would be to offer enough money..." "I don't have any money." "Neither do I -- at least not that much. Does he gamble?" "Sometimes. I think so. Do you think you might 'win' me?" "Why are you so anxious to get free of him? Is it just money?" She frowned. "Not money at all. He beats me -- beats us, all of the girls in his 'stable'. See this?" She pulled back her upper lip. One of her upper molars was missing. "He knocked this tooth out once, just because I wouldn't go down on him." Bret's eyebrow raised. "What would I do with you if I won you?" She grinned. "Please try. Won't you try?" Bret ran his hands up her thighs, and rested them on her hips. His cock was still deep inside her, her pussy tight around his erection. "Yeah, I'll try. Who is this guy?" "His name is Keno. Don Keno." Bret furrowed his brow. That name was familiar. "Do people call him 'Stubby'?" "Not to his face. The story is that some fellow in San Francisco shot his cock off." "If it was San Francisco, it was more likely some fellow bit it off," Bret laughed quietly. "I heard the story -- but I heard it was a woman shot it off." "Then you'll do it?" She looked into his eyes. "Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, I'll do it." "Goody," she giggled. She began to bounce up and down, sliding up and down Maverick's fire-pole. "Oh, gawd," Bret muttered. "What have I gotten myself into this time?" .......................................................... Bart watched through the train window as the woman descended the steps and stepped into the arms of a man standing at the side of the track. When the two of them turned and walked toward the station, he stepped off the train himself. He whistled a little tune as he strolled toward the station, carrying his small carpetbag. ........................................................... "Big Jim" Melloy yawned. Those late nights and early rising were getting to him. He stepped out of the horse barns, and bent backwards, his hands behind the small of his back, and stretched his spine. He walked down the row of stalls, sidestepping a pile of horse shit that hadn't yet been swept up. "Hey, Melloy!" a voice behind him shouted. Melloy turned. A young boy was running toward him. "What's the rush, Tony?" he asked. "I got a message for ya," the boy panted. "Crystal Johnson wants you to meet her tonight down to the Galt House." Melloy's brow furrowed. Crystal... Crystal... Then the light dawned. The hooker he had spent a night with last week. What would she want with him? "Thanks, kid," he nodded, and flipped the boy a nickel. "Gee!" the boy grinned. "Thanks." He strode on down the lane between the barns, thinking. ............................................................ The small 'back room' of the tavern was dark and smoky. But they couldn't very well play in the open on a Sunday. Bret Maverick sat at the poker table again, pondering his hand. Finally, he selected three cards, put them face down on the table, and said "three" quietly. The cards were dealt. He picked them up, and inwardly sighed without letting it show outwardly. Nothing but a pair of threes. The man to his left puffed his cigar. "I'll stay with what I have," he said, and lay his cards face down on the table. The dealer took one. Maverick folded. "Full house," the cigar smoker grinned. "Kings over threes. I had triple crowns." "So Col. Clark," the dealer said, gathering up the cards, "is everything all ready for the track opening tomorrow?" Clark puffed his cigar again. "Sure is. The new pari-mutuel machines are in, the horses are all here and working out. The weather's pretty good. The track is level... I think we're in for a fine day of racing." Maverick looked up at Clark. "Pari-mutuel machines?" "It's a way to pool all the bets on a race, Mr. Maverick." "I see. Are you going to put bookmakers out of business?" Clark laughed. "There have been some complaints. But it's a way for the Jockey Club to make back our money. I spent a lot of time in France studying the way it works." "I see," Maverick nodded. The man across from Maverick growled, "Are we playing cards, or advertising for your race?" "Both, Captain Bodgit," laughed Clark. "Deal 'em." "I also went to England, and watched the procedures there for races. The race tomorrow is named after my favorite English race, the Epsom Derby. But mine's called the Kentucky Derby." Maverick nodded, "Catchy name." "We'll see. I've also got a race for fillies, patterned after the Epsom Oaks." "Let me guess -- the Kentucky Oaks?" Maverick grinned. "Pretty obvious, I suppose," Clark chuckled. "So, let's play poker." He picked up his hand, and Maverick did the same. ........................................................... "Hey, girl," the skinny fellow growled. "Where you been?" "I've been around," Crystal snapped. "Then where's the money? You hustling for yourself?" The skinny man grabbed her arm. "You know Keno won't put up with that." "Leggo," Crystal hissed, pulling away. She reached into her dress and pulled out two gold coins. "Here's the five bucks for the day -- and another five bucks for tonight. Shove off." The skinny fellow looked at the coins in his hand. "That feller last night must've liked you." "More than you'll ever know," Crystal grinned, grimly. ........................................................... Bart Maverick stepped up to the front desk of the Galt House and rang the bell. "Help you, sir?" the clerk asked when he appeared. "You have a room for Maverick?" Bart asked. The clerk pulled out a large book and opened it to a marked page. He ran a finger down a column of writing. "Yes sir, Mr. Maverick. You're in 203." He turned and reached into a cubbyhole behind him. "Here's your key. Do you need help with your bags?" Bart shook his head, and lifted the carpetbag. "This is all I have with me, thanks." He turned and walked toward the stairs. ........................................................... 'Big Jim' strode into the lobby of the Galt House. He glanced around, but didn't see the girl. Suddenly, someone took hold of his arm. He turned quickly, reaching for the gun he no longer wore. "Easy big fella, it's just me." Crystal grinned up at him. "What did you want to see me about?" Melloy asked. "Not here," she said. "Let's go upstairs." "Upstairs? You have a room here?" "It belongs to a friend of mine. C'mon." She led him to the wide stairway. As she walked beside him, Melloy smelled her sweet perfume, and the warmth radiating from her body. He remembered that night last week after he picked her up in the tavern, and he felt a swelling begin in his pants. They reached the hotel room door, and she produced a key. As she turned the lock, she glanced down at his crotch. "Oh, boy..." she glanced up at his face. "I think you might have gotten the wrong idea about why I called you up here." "Maybe, but it's a good idea, none the less." Melloy grinned at her. "Come on in here," Crystal said. She stepped into the room. Sitting on the bed was a man dressed in black, sorting through the contents of a carpetbag. The man looked up, startled. "Who are you?" both the girl and the man said at once. "Bart Maverick," Bart said. "I'm Crystal. Are you related to Bret Maverick? This is his room." "My brother," Bart nodded. "Damn. It's not the first time a hotel has gotten us mixed up. But sometimes it works for the best." He looked Crystal over, appreciatively. "You don't quite look like Bret's type," he mused. A little frown crossed Crystal's face. "What type do you mean?" "The cheap floozie," Bart smiled. Crystal chuckled. "Floozie, maybe. But not cheap." Bart's eyebrow raised. Behind Crystal, Melloy cleared his throat. Crystal turned. "Sorry, Jim," she said, softly. "Bart, this is 'Big Jim' Melloy." Maverick stood up and extended his hand. Melloy shook it gravely. "So what did you two come up to my brother's room to do?" Bart asked, a mischievous grin on his face. "Actually, we came up here to discuss your brother's plan," Crystal said. "Anything my brother gets mixed up in usually ends up involving me," Bart grinned. "Tell me about this plan." ........................................................... Bret Maverick threw in his cards. Luck was no lady tonight. "I think I'll pack it in," he said. Clark grinned at him. "Well, son, if you want, c'mon out to the Jockey Club tomorrow and watch the races." Maverick nodded. "I might just do that." He shook Clark's outstretched hand. "Goodnight, gentlemen." He walked out the door, a little unsteadily. They do make some fine bourbon in this state. He stepped out into the street, warily looking around him. It was a couple of blocks to the Galt House. He started walking, weaving just a bit. A form stepped out of the shadows between buildings. "Mr. Maverick?" the man asked. "Depends on who's asking." "My name is Don Keno." "So?" "I was told that you had engaged the services of one of my employees for the day and the night. I was wondering what you were doing out here." Maverick frowned. "I don't see that it's any of your business. Besides-- no man can perform constantly for twenty-four hours." "I see," Keno chuckled. "Then why pay for what you're not using?" Maverick was becoming impatient. "Because when I want it, I want it available. Now get out of my way." He started to step around the smaller man. Keno stepped into his path. "Then perhaps I should charge you more." "Like hell. I struck the deal with your subordinate." Keno poked a finger into Bret's chest. "You are hoarding my whore. She could be making money for me, and you're keeping her away from me." Maverick's mind -- even through the bourbon -- was sharp. He smiled inwardly that Keno had found him rather than having to seek him out. He began to exaggerate the apparent effects of the bourbon. "Tell you what, fella," Bret slurred. "I'm a little intoxicated tonight. Meet me at the Galt House in the morning, and we'll discuss terms." "I want to 'discuss terms' now." Keno prodded again with his finger. Maverick quickly reached up, grabbed Keno's finger, and twisted. Keno howled in pain. "I said tomorrow morning. Now, unless you want people to call you 'Stubby', take your finger and shove off." Maverick let go, and Keno backed away. "Tomorrow," he shouted. Maverick walked past him, toward the hotel. Keno shouted after him, "You... crud!" Maverick smiled -- he had him hooked. continued in part 2... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It’s okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with strangers. But it isn’t okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with strangers!! You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 6