Britt the Naughty Cowgirl: Volume Ten

By William A. Patrick III

Sexy Britt needed to escape the her hum-drum life. She saw Branden and his cherry-red convertible as a way out. Eighteen-year-old Britt the naughty cowgirl goes on adventures and gets into all sorts of trouble. For adults only. Contains graphic depictions of adult sexual activity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William A. Patrick III
• Release date: Jan 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463111895

William A. Patrick III

William A. Patrick III resides in Tustin, CA, and travels with Linder.

Book preview

Britt the Naughty Cowgirl - Volume Ten

By William A. Patrick III

Copyright © 2020 by William A. Patrick III.

Published by William A. Patrick III at Smashwords. Smashwords Edition.

All rights reserved. Any similarity between persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction and is of an adult nature and is not meant for minors. All participants in this story are over the age of consent.

Warning: this Britt volume is stupider and more idiotic than previous versions.

CHAPTER 1

A lone drop of sweat, caused by a different kind of heat, slowly made its way from her bellybutton to her bacon-strip styled pubic hair.

The thing is, Britt said, it was a weird situation. Britt looked at Branden but the man only drove on. See, we were in the middle of the desert, drinking tequila and there were all you guys around me.

It happens. Branden said.

Did you say it happens or shit happens?

Both.

Well, it was only one zero. Britt said.

Yeah, but that was one hell of a fucking… zero, said Branden. He turned the Impala into a bend in the highway and gave it gas. A sign said, ‘Houston 39 miles.’

That ticket was worth what it was worth. Britt said. The only thing I did wrong was read the number with an extra zero.

Britt, Branden said, it’s okay! Everything is fine.

I feel so stupid.

Like you said, Branden began, that ticket was worth what it was worth. That’s it. No harm was done.

Then why were all the bikers mad at me?

Well, you had them thinking that they had won one-hundred and six thousand dollars instead of ten-thousand, six hundred dollars. Like I said, that was one hell of a zero you added.

Did they give us anything?

About two-hundred bucks. Braden peered at the cowgirl. Her top was half unbuttoned and her Daisy-Dukes had pulled away from her crotch to reveal a few stubby pubic hairs she had yet to shave. As usual, she wore no panties.

Look, we’re fine. Branden said. We have all our stuff back, we owe nobody anything and we’re on our way to Nashville with our dream of making a hit single out of Ash’s love song to you. Let’s not worry about anything else, kay? He glanced at Britt. Her pouty face was shaded by a frown. Who cares what those fucking bikers think. If you really give it some thought, it was actually pretty fucking funny. Branden said. I never seen such turn of emotions as when they realized your… um… the… mistake.

Britt laughed. Their jaws literally dropped. I thought that guy with the scar on his face was going to pass out and the rest have a heart attack.

See, it WAS funny. Branden said.

They thought they were rich. Britt said with another laugh. And that phone was blurry! She tugged at her top in the rising heat. Through the opening of her blouse Branden could just make out part of a nipple among the firm, fleshy cleavage.

Yeah, it was the phone… Branden said.

Look, Britt answered, if you promise to drop this, and drop it FOREVER… I’ll do something for you. But you have to promise not to bring it up ever again. I mean ever! If I hear about my lottery mistake again you’ll never get another thing from me… ever, deal?"

Deal! Branden said. But… what did you have in mind?

Britt undid the last button on her top. Her heavy tits immediately spilled out. Pull over somewhere. There’s lots of empty space, find a field or something, she said. Branden steered the Chevy off the freeway and found a large sandy wash under the highway. The concrete walls were covered in graffiti and empty beer bottles littered the floor, but it was private.

Nice and dark and creepy… thanks! Britt said. Come to my side. Branden exited the driver’s seat as Britt sat in the door-jam of the Impala. Branden made his way around the car and stood before the cowgirl. I want to see if I can deep-throat you… Britt said while removing her top.

Bare breasted, she peered over Branden’s shoulder. Bolted to the underpass wall was a sign that read: ‘WARNING: Drug Smugglers Have Been Known to Frequent this Area.’ She shook her head. The culvert smelled like a seedy dive-bar with wafts of stale beer and urine filling the air. Nonetheless, with Branden standing before her and her pouty breasts swaying as she shifted on the door-jam, she plowed onward. I want to…you know… deep-throat you without choking on that nine-inch cock of yours… now take your shirt off and unzip your pants, cowboy.

Even though Branden hadn’t been to a gym in months his stomach was still flat, and part of his former six-pack still peeked out above his bellybutton. I also want to see if I can swallow you without… you know… barfing… Branden would have laughed but for his heart, which was beating in his chest like a jackhammer. He could just about feel his skin tingle into gooseflesh.

Britt had to bend his cock almost in half to get it past his zipper and out of his pants. He was swollen and pulsating with the beats of his racing heart. Jeeze Branden, Britt said, looking up at him with his cock in her hand, my cowboy is ready to ride the range! Britt looked at the sign again.

"Keep an eye out for anyone coming by…