Erotic Flash Fiction
"Happiness," a sex story by Neil Weston
The stagecoach came to a halt in the center of town. Happiness let the driver open the door before she alighted onto the dirt road.
“Where will I find him?” she asked.
“There.” Happiness followed the man’s finger to the horse trough in front of the saloon.
“Oh. I won’t be long.”
Gathering up her yellow dress, Happiness headed coolly across the road.
“Wake up, oaf!”
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The man, spread-eagled in the trough, lazily opened an eye, struggled out, coughed a mangled cheroot narrowly missing Happiness.
“Ma’am.”
“Take my hand.”
“Yes, ma’am. How long we got?”
“Time.”
Happiness retained her poise, as she led the lolling man to the stagecoach. Inside, she pulled out a bowl of water, a piece of soap, and a cutthroat razor from beneath the seat.
“Husband to be. You look a mess.”
Happiness applied soap froth to the man’s cheeks, and called out, “Driver--move off!” The coach jerked forward, froth flicked over Happiness, causing great merriment as the coach hurried them on to the church,
“Was it a good last night being single?”
“Oh, yes!”
“And do I still look beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“And, will you still marry me?”
Silence. Then.
“Oh, yes, oh, yes.”
Happiness sat back and looked longingly at her man. She felt her cheeks warm, her buttock cheeks and, shifted on the hard wood seat. She then parted her legs, drew back the folds of her dress and gathered up another amount of soap foam. For this special day, she wore no undergarments and felt warmer still as she revealed herself. Her husband-to-be made to approach her but she put up a soapy hand to stop him. She locked eyes, lathered her pubic hairs, and offered out the cutthroat razor.
“Stop, driver!”
The stagecoach horses neighed as they came to a halt.
“We are fine. I am a little dizzy,” Happiness shouted with a mischievous grin. Her fiancé took the razor and knelt before Happiness. He used an unexpected delicate circular motion to remove her hair-- motion that heightened the burning deep inside her. Happiness moaned her pleasure. When the razor brushed lightly over her clear flesh, Happiness raised a hand to push her fiancé away. She watched him close the implement and place it to the side. Then Happiness ordered: “Take off your breaches!”
Her fiancé needed no encouragement and soon had them removed.
“On driver--on!”
The stagecoach moved off in a jerky movement again sending the pair on top of one another. Happiness straightened and consumed the rigid penis that pulsed for her.
“Oh, my, you wretched man. Was it a good last night being single?”
“Oh, yes!”
“And do I still look beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“And, will you fuck me?”
Silence. Then.
“Oh, yes, oh, yes.”
Happiness caressed her man’s hair, pressed her breasts up close to his face, and shifted her body in rhythm to the movement of the stagecoach. A wedding was what every girl dreamed of, having sex on a stagecoach, on the way to the church, was only to be dreamed of. A dream Happiness was more than willing to play out.
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Copyright December 2011, Neil Weston
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.