Bobby Jo
By Jessica Wayne
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 by Jessica Wayne
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Author’s Note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or book reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Fantasia Frog Designs
Published by New Line Press
Bobby Jo by Jessica Wayne
Bobby Jo climaxed in harmony with Jason’s body stiffening in an all out orgasm. The two yelled out expletives to their individual Gods in an uncontrolled expression of pure ecstasy.
Soaked in sweat from their frenzied copulation, Jason reached his red bandana to entrap the oozing juices flowing from Bobby Jo’s vagina. She, still producing latent spasms of sexual satisfaction, jerked with a wonderful new pleasure as the red cloth cleaned up ever so softly around her, now tender, clitoris.
It was late; stars twinkled bright in the black heaven above their love blanket. Stars surrounded Jason’s beautifully formed facial features as she lay and admired him as he languished over her. His intense blue eyes were obviously dancing over her own face (and body) as he continued to breathe heavy from their love tryst in the golden pile of hay behind her family barn.
The warm Arizona night, with the temperature stagnate in the mid-eighties, enhanced their heated sex romp, freeing their sweat to pour copiously at the crescendo of their post orgasmic fury.
“Oh my God! Jason. You’re amazing.”
“Oh no, Bobby Jo. It’s pure you, girl,” and his hand did a soft glide over her breasts in small circles and then moved lower where he stopped it just below her navel, to savor her sweat moist flesh. “You light me up, kid. It’s some kind of mystic phenomena or something.” He then pushed a tress of damp golden hair back from her forehead and kissed her with passion, a passion that rose straight up from his emotional laden heart.
The two lay side by side without talking. Naked to the world, they enjoyed the surrounding night and its nocturnal sound without a thought to social consequence or any concern of reality.
Enjoying their beautiful exhaustion, Jason’s thoughts awkwardly wandered to his up and coming workday. His job with the Arizona Gaming Commission would take him onto the Hopi Indian Reservation. He was going there to see the beautiful Indian maiden, Whistling Wind. He would get her to sign some dubious legal papers; Papers that would give public access to her family section of there protected Federal lands.
Breathing slower now, Bobby Jo’s thoughts were dancing around the Milky Way in awe of so many stars sprawled out and twinkling softly across the immense sky above them. She, still feeling and enjoying, the pleasant tingling sensations that lingered happily throughout her now satiated body.
She reached Jason’s cock, massaging its going flaccid softness. He issued forth an involuntary spasm of natural acknowledgement. “Oh baby.” She cooed, and then ran her thumb through the last drop of his residual cum that oozed from the opening of his bulbous penis head.
“It’s really late, Bobby Jo. I have to run. I have to get up early.”
“When will I see you again, Jason?”
“Tonight...?” His response came out more a question than statement.
As they dressed, Jason suggested they go into Gila Bend for a quiet dinner, “I can get us a free room with my casino connections.” He boasted. “We can be back home by midnight.” Jason picked her up off the ground and spun her about, still naked, while he asked her, “How’s that for fun plan, Bobby Jo?”
“Jeans and boots...or a dress?” She demanded.
“What comes off the easiest?” Jason demurred, and then, laughed easily at his own playful suggestion.
Bobby Jo, not to be out witted, replied, “I’ll just come naked, how’s them apples?”
Jason drove off in his Jeep Wrangler, waving without knowing if she was watching. He loved this girl with his whole heart. Their sex was superb and she had a way of making him feel special. He knew this too, that he would ask her to marry him, very soon.
Jason woke to the jarring ring of his Big Ben alarm clock. It was a gift, from Bobby Jo, when he moved out on his own. It was a Godsend to getting him up and moving. There was no snooze button built into it; and when it rang, he knew he had to respond, and he did, without a second thought.
Still groggy from a short sleep, Jason stepped into his shower and lathered his toned body with a fat bar of English Leather, a scented soap. He would skip his normal 20-minute exercise routine. Laughing to himself, he wondered how much muscle he had built as he pounded into Bobby Jo just a few hours earlier. The thought gave him a budding erection under the heat of the pulsating shower. Although enjoyable, Jason had to let his urge to masturbate pass and get himself shaved. In less than two hours, he would be having coffee or tea with the hottest Indian on the Hopi reservation.
Twenty minutes later, in his Jeep, sipping on a can of V8, hair blowing in the wind, jamming to Kid Rock, Jason envisioned the stunning princess. He had only met her once, not formally, for a very few memorable seconds.
Jason told me, “She was a student at Colorado University, and I was there, on campus, for a seminar on gambling law. She had long black hair and deep dark brown eyes. She was wearing a white rabbit fur coat and had designer glasses pushed up on her head. She was stunning.”
She smiled at Jason with a curious grin. And then disappeared into a mass of, between classes, coeds.
“Wow!” Jason commented to his friends, “Who’s the fox?”
“Whistling Wind,” One of the agents announced, and then elaborated, “She’s off limits to whites. It’s some kind of federal offense to even wink at her, Jason. Keep it in your pants, buddy.”
That was his meet with her; a two seconds look, from ten feet away, of one true Indian Princess. Now, 3 years later, he was on his way to meet her, formally. Jason knew she was 22 years old. She controlled the property and access to where she built a substantial house with money from her parent’s casino holdings. That was all he actually knew.
Jason’s boss was adamant about him going to get her signature, “Have her sign these papers and get the hell out of there. Understand?”
Jason didn’t understand, but nodded out in agreement. He took the papers, acknowledged the meeting time, adjusted his gray felt Stetson, and left with his boots tapping loudly down the tiled corridor to the agency-parking garage. He felt special to have been given such an easy task. What could go wrong? Something he didn’t know, was that Whispering Wind had asked for him, by name, to come out and execute the paperwork – in person, alone.
Jason arrived 5 minutes early. He scanned the area and was amazed at the panoramic view from the small hill where he stood. It was a beautiful sight by any standard. There was a Lexus in the opened garage and a huge Ram truck parked on the gravel in front of a small barn fifty yards away. Two pinto horses watched Jason walk to the door from a white, wooden corral.
Two feet from the front door, Jason became aware of his own budding erection, “Damn it!” he said aloud, to the universe. He stood there and adjusted his toolbox, then rapped on Whistling Wind’s oak door. A small dog began to yap, the door opened and there stood the princess. She was stunning. She greeted him in her native tongue and then explained, “That’s Hopi for welcome, Jason.”