Back of Bourke

'I promise,' I vowed. 'Thank-you. You're an amazing friend.'

'One of the best,' she agreed cheekily. She smoothed my hair down. 'Well, I'll be off. You two don't need me hanging around for what's going to happen next.'

Kerry got into Westie's Ranger and did a three point turn. As she drove out the driveway, she wound down the window and stuck her arm out to wave good-bye.

Westie and I were standing alongside each other, one arm looped around each other's waist, and together we waived good-bye to the woman who'd made this moment possible. When Kerry had left, and the last of the dust the Ford had kicked up was dying down, Westie turned to me and asked me if I thought Linus was mad.

'Absolutely fucking nuts,' I agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Westie's house was a thirty year old weatherboard high-set. I hadn't been able to see it from the road, because the path to his house was uncleared, but up close it didn't seem awful. The cream coloured exterior paint was starting to peel, but it wasn't yet looking derelict, and the stairs creaked under our feet but each one was solid and secure.

Westie unlocked the door and gestured for me to go in. As I walked past him, he swatted me on the bum.

The interior of the house was pretty much as you'd expect from one of it's vintage that was owned by a single man with three kids. The place wasn't grotty, but it wasn't exactly clean, and he'd invested more money in his couch and television than he had in soft furnishings.

Westie showed me where the bathroom was, and told me to meet him in the bedroom when I was finished. I shut the door and peed, made sure I was spotlessly clean down below, then stared at myself in his rusted bathroom mirror. This wasn't just some casual fuck. Ciaran had been casual, Frank had been casual, and Lucas had been casual, but Westie was something altogether different.

Westie was sitting on the edge of his bed, shoes off, texting someone. When I nervously walked into the bedroom, he put the phone down and stared at me.

'You're a gorgeous lady, Evie,' he remarked. 'Come here.'

I walked over to him and sat alongside him on the edge of the bed. The mattress was firm, the sheets were soft from overuse, and the whole room smelt of Westie.

My lover took my face in his hands and kissed me. My heart thumped with excitement, and I kissed him back, happiness bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me.

Westie laid me on the bed, took off my heels, and rolled over so that the top half of his body was covering mine. He felt amazing; solid, warm, masculine and strong, and I wrapped one leg over his, drawing him close.

I felt his hands push my dress up, exposing my bare pussy. My knickers were still in his pocket, and I knew that I wouldn't be getting them back. Westie's rough fingers gently traced and parted my labia. He raised his hand to his mouth, sucked on his two forefingers, then returned the to my pussy. He lined himself up and then, without warning, penetrated.

I gasped with pleasure and pushed against him, forcing his fingers deeper inside. My body responded to the penetration; my clit swelling and my cunt producing copious amounts of liquid. Westie kissed me as he finger-fucked me, bringing me to a point where all I wanted was to feel his cock inside me.

'Fuck me,' I gasped.

'No. I want to make you cum first.'

'Please,' I begged. 'Oh God, please.'

Westie ignored my request. He slid his soaking fingers from my cunt and rubbed my clit. Another moan escaped my lips and I reached down to help guide his hand. If he wanted me to cum first; so be it. I would cum for him.

I held him by the wrist to guide him, but I had my spare arm wrapped around his back, holding him near to me so that I could kiss him. I started to wriggle and gasp as my climax approached. I was squirming, continually shifting my position, trying to find the best angle.

Several times I came close but I didn't quite tip over the edge. My breathing was ragged and I was no longer in control of my body. I wanted, no needed him to finish me off. I let go of his wrist and pulled the front of my dress down, exposing a breast. I played with the nipple, squeezing it between my fingers as Westie's fingers worked their magic on my little button.

I caught Westie staring at me, gazing lustfully at the expression of my face, and in that moment I finally tipped over the precipice. I thrashed around frantically, my hand flying down to his and pressing his fingers hard against my clit. All manner of obscenities escaped my mouth as I gave in to my basest needs. I could feel how slick his hand was, how wet I was, and I knew I should have been embarrassed by how hard I was cumming, and yet I wasn't.

Westie kept working me until I'd was quite finished. I moved his hand away and apologised, but he waved aside my apologies, a reverent expression on his face.

'You're fucking dripping,' he muttered hoarsely, raising his fingers to his mouth and sucking them. 'Fuck.'

I reached up and grabbed his bicep.

'Now you need to fuck me,' I whispered urgently. 'I need to feel your cock.'

Without waiting for him to reply, I started tearing his clothes off. He was naked in record time, exposing exactly the sort of body I knew he'd have; barrel chested, solid, and generously sprinkled with dark hair. I knelt between his legs and stared salaciously at his cock. There was a thick, blue vein at the base, and I could still see the faint remains of a woman's lipstick on the underside. I wasn't the first woman to wrap her lips around his prick that night.

Westie groaned as I began to suck him. I put in a lot of effort, but I didn't spend too long down there. I merely wanted to show him that I was willing to give head, but what I wanted, what I needed, this morning, was to feel his hard on in my wet pussy. Sexually, I was satisfied, but I still had that primal yearning to feel him inside me. I wanted that intimacy and closeness.

Westie understood why I'd stopped. He sat up and reached into his middle drawer for a box of condoms. I couldn't help but notice the drawer also contained lubricant and a couple of porn magazines, which surprised me, because I thought the internet had done away with them. None of my previous lovers had ever bought print porn.

I turned my attention to Westie, trailing my hands along his torso as he put the condom on.

'How do I look?' he asked, holding his latex-clad penis at an angle so I can admire it.

'Good,' I replied hungrily. 'Great.'

'Just what I wanted to hear. Climb on.'

I threw a leg over, lined myself up, and slowly eased the head of his cock inside. Westie's gaze was focussed on his cock being swallowed up. I glanced down, between my legs, and together we both watched as I speared myself with him.

'Oh fuck,' he groaned, when he was full encased. 'Mmhmm. That's good, really fucking good.'

He put his hands on my hips to guide me up and down. He felt incredible inside me. I loved feeling his cock, I loved the way my buttocks pressed against his balls when he was deep inside me, and I loved the way his eyes were half-hooded was lust.

I couldn't stop touching him, and I kept leaning down to kiss him and breathe in his wonderful scent. It was during a moment when my face was buried in his neck that I felt his hands grip my arse and he pumped me up and down, harder and harder, sounding for all the world like a bull at a gate. I nibbled at his earlobe, knowing what was coming.

Westie. Westie was cumming. He wasn't shy, and nor was he quiet, instead he went all in as he fucked me good and hard. I clung to him as he pumped deep inside me, holding his body tight when he was tense and strained, and softening my grip when I felt all of the tension fade away.

We lay there for a while, Westie still inside me, my head buried in his neck. He cuddled me and kissed my head, but neither of us spoke until it was absolutely necessary.

'You better get off,' he regretfully advised. 'Otherwise you'll end up with a condom inside you.'

We eased our bodies apart, careful to keep the little latex bag on Westie's cock. He cleaned up, and we spooned each other, both satisfied and content.

'I know this is where we should drift off to sleep,' Westie said. 'But I could eat a horse and chase the jockey. Want to have breakfast with me?'

~~~~~~~

We found ourselves sitting on the back deck of his house in the early morning light, eating bacon, egg, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. We'd made them together in his kitchen, each of us barefoot and dressed in last night's clothes. I had absolutely no idea what Westie had done with my panties, and he refused to tell me.

When I went out onto the back veranda I understood what Kerry had meant about Westie being a grot. An otherwise peaceful and serene vista was interrupted by the crushed road base yard, two trucks, several excavators and bobcats and a miscellany of items I couldn't hope to identify. On the equipment was a logo and a business name: West's Civil Contracting. It wasn't a one man operation, that much was clear.

Beyond the yard were several paddocks which had been semi cleared. I spotted two sheep and a steer, and as I ate my sandwich, barbecue sauce dripping onto my hands, I heard a rooster crow.

'So,' Westie asked cheekily. 'How does it feel to have dropped your standards?'

'Don't talk about yourself like that,' I replied. 'I think you're awesome.'

'Oh, I'm not talking about myself,' he assured me, his grin widening. 'I'm talking about you. You and your standards.'

'What do you mean, standards?' I asked, too sleep deprived to be mentally nimble. 'I went to the back of Bourke with two guys I'd only just met. I think when I did that, I removed any sort of standards I may have once had.'

'Really?' Westie asked, bemused. 'Earlier tonight, I seem to remember you telling me that you can remember the name of everyone you slept with.'

'I can,' I replied, not understanding where this was heading. ''I fucked Alistair, Darryl and Simon, then I sucked a bloke called Evan but didn't fuck him, I fucked Haden, I fucked James, I sucked Ciaran, I fucked Frank, I gave a foot job to Lucas and I fucked...'

Realisation dawned. I looked at the earthmoving equipment. West's Civil Contracting. Westie. Westie was the nickname of a man whose surname was 'West'.

'Oh fuck,' I swore. I put my sandwich down and stared at Westie. 'What's your name? Your real name?'

He found my reaction hilarious, and clapped and laughed, telling me the expression on my face was absolutely fucking priceless.

'I need to get my phone so I can take a photo of you,' he teased. 'You still don't believe you did it, do you?'

'No!' I exclaimed, flushing bright red. 'Oh my God. What's your name? Tell me, I have to know.'

'Nup.' He fell back laughing. 'No way.'

I grabbed his arm and shook it. 'Tell me,' I demanded. 'What's your name?'

'Westie,' he gasped, catatonic with laughter.

'No! Your real name! Tell me your real name!'

It took me a good five minutes to get his name out of him. By that stage I was getting upset. The night had taken a lot out of me emotionally, and I've never been good at accepting anything more than gentle ribbing. Just like when Darryl told me he was from the back of Bourke, I became convinced Westie was making fun of me.

'Oh Evie, come here,' Westie said, pulling me into a cuddle. 'I didn't mean to upset you.'

'I know,' I mumbled. 'I'm just sensitive.'

'A nester,' he said.

'Probably,' I agreed.

'I like it,' he declared. He squeezed me tight and kissed the top of my head. 'My name's Shannon. Nobody ever calls me that, though. It's too pretty a girly name for a guy with a face like a smashed crab.'

'Shannon,' I repeated. 'It suits you. I really like you, Shannon.'

'I know, sweetie,' he said, kissing me again. 'I like you, too. Come on. It's time to go to sleep.'

~~~~~~~~~

When we're asked how we met, we both say; 'through a mutual friend'. Nobody questions our explanation. Nobody knows about the night of debauchery that preceded our first gentle, cautious moments together.

And, if you've read this far and are still reading, I suppose it's because you want to know if Frank ever found out the woman he fucked in Brisbane was the best friend of his neighbour's little girl. I was quite curious about that, and a few weeks after that night, I asked Kerry if she knew anything about it.

Kerry did some investigations and got back to me a day or two later. She told me that Merrick had thought long and hard about the topic and in the end, had decided to give his father a few hints and see if he fit the pieces of the puzzle together.

The morning after the buck's night, Merrick and Frank had a late brunch together. Merrick, wanting to get the conversation started, asked Frank how his night had been after the boys had left him at the pub.

'Oh, not much happened,' Frank replied. 'Just finished my beer, went home and fell asleep.'

Nobody knows why Frank lied. Maybe he thought nobody would believe him. But he didn't mention me, the altercation with the drunk, or our love-making. Merrick pretended to believe the lie. What good would come of arguing with his father, and pointing out that he knew the truth? None. None at all. So Merrick kept his mouth shut, and Frank kept his secret.

The End.