Shape

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

“Honestly Willow, you’re just going to have to get over it. Cowboys are in. Ye Olde West is making a comeback. Year of the yee-haw and all that shit.”

“All I’m saying is that this is the fifth Wild West themed video I’ve been a PA for this month. They all wear stirrups, the hats just keep getting bigger, and I swear to god if someone plays Diplo’s remix of ‘Old Town Road’ one more time I’m going to go full Exorcist. I mean it. Spinning head. Your mother sucks cocks in hell. All of it. I just don’t get it.”

“You don’t get it?” My friend Nina’s head was cocked to the side as she looked at me over her bowl of ramen. “Get this – cowboys are sexy. That’s what’s happening here.”

“Not to me.”

“You’re telling me that on all these sets where you’ve been assisting, there hasn’t been one – not one – cowboy who sauntered on stage and made you want to jump his dusty bones?”

“They’re not real cowboys, Nina. They’re actors. Hollywood meatheads in chaps.”

“Mmm, even better.” Nina sucked in a long noodle seductively, smacking her lips.

“Gross.”

“Yummy.”

I kicked her under the table. “God okay, fine…so there was this one.”

“Of course there was! Look at you, playing all coy.”

“He wasn’t really a cowboy though, more an… outlaw? I don’t know. Are they cowboys if they don’t have the hats?”

“I think it’s more of a lifestyle.”

“This is a film set. Not a way of life.”

“Hat or no hat, whatever. What’s his name?”

“Arthur. Or, Drifter #2.”

“Sexy.”

“Here’s the thing though. I recognize him from Tinder. We matched and chatted a few months ago, but I can’t tell if he recognizes me. Anyway, tomorrow is my last day on that set, and I was thinking I might – ”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Trust me! Are you still matched with him?”

“I think so.”

“Here, just…”

Nina grabbed my phone out of my hands, and I didn’t put up much of a protest. Whatever she was about to do was probably harmless, comical at the worst. Besides, it wasn’t like I actually cared what this guy thought about me. Not really. Nina began scrolling, giggling along the way.

“Okay, here you are, Arthur. Ooh, nice pics. Tall dark and handsome much? Get it, Willow.” Her fingers were flying over the screen. A pinging sound emanated throughout the Echo Park cafe we were in. “Done.” She handed my phone back to me, grinning.

Showing up as sent: Hey sexy. Recognize u from PAing on ur set. Teach me how to save a horse, ride a cowboy? 😉

“Nina, what the fuck! I have to work with this guy, Jesus.” I laughed. I wasn’t mad, per se, but she’d definitely been a bit more…direct than I was expecting. Realistically though, the next day was my last on this project. There wasn’t much I had to lose.

Nina sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair. “It’s the last time you’ll see him right? I’m just giving you a head start. You’re welcome.”

Goddammit, Nina.

*

The following workday passed like any other. I ran around gathering clipboards, coffees and Juul pods for various cast and crew members. There was a catastrophe with the catering delivery and I had to make an emergency run to Jimmy John’s. My day was typically frantic and unpredictable, leaving me with little time to notice if Arthur was around, much less saddle up to him and start a conversation. But as the afternoon melted toward evening and folks began to drift off set, I noticed him lingering in a dark corner running lines. I took in the Wranglers cinched tight around his waist, the giant gold buckle that was perfectly perched over a bulge that seemed almost artificial. He wore an embroidered gunfighter shirt with copper roses sewn at the shoulders, and the top three buttons were undone, giving a peek at the smooth skin that shone seductively underneath. His dark brows furrowed over the script in his hands, and a mess of chin length curls was tucked behind his ears. When he shifted his weight I could hear spurs clicking. I looked away quickly, a part of me hoping the rest of this day would pass with nothing out of the ordinary happening. No flirtation, no thinly veiled come-ons, definitely no cowboy riding. I was at work. This was my job. Nina had gone too far. That was all there was to it.

I’d finished up the last of my tasks and was packing my bag when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Shit.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy? Haven’t heard that since grade school.” Arthur was grinning, a drawstring knapsack slung over his shoulder, and the hand that reached up to hold it in place was adorned with turquoise rings and sterling silver bracelets. It all looked real, and I couldn’t tell if it was a part of the costume or just an extension of himself.

“Yeah, uh, sorry. That was my friend, Nina, she took my phone. I’m sorry?” I said it like a question. Was I baiting him? Was I actually apologizing? I wasn’t sure either way.

He laughed. “Don’t be. I liked it. Willow, right?”

I blushed. He liked it. “Yeah. Arthur?”

“Yep.” He was standing close to me, and I caught a whiff of pine and smoke off of him. That was definitely not a costume. Was he just…like this? I couldn’t tell if that turned me off or on, but when he reached out his hand to shake mine and a spark of actual electricity shot through my fingers, my whole pussy swole in response. He let his hand linger, and when I finally pulled away his fingers traced over my palm slowly. Goosebumps shivered down my spine.

“Willow, not to be forward but, care to ride it, my pony?” He gestured behind him to a prop horse that was standing on the set. Everyone else had taken off, and the horse seemed oddly lonely in the space. It was made to look like a tall American paint horse, and the splotches of brown and white fur were created with real hair. The thing had always creeped me out, but now the thought of mounting the girth of it with Arthur was only enticing.

“Oh, is your saddle waiting?”

“Might be.”

“Hmm. And is it genuinely sturdy enough to carry the both of us?”

“Only one way to find out.” He winked at me and sauntered over, clicking all the way. When he got to the horse he hoisted himself up by the saddle that was affixed to the horse’s back. He patted the seat behind him. “I promise you, the view is amazing from up here.” Arthur gesticulated to the cinder block wall in front of him. I laughed in spite of myself. I’d give it to him; he was a little funny. I followed suit, using his arm for leverage and swinging myself up. Once seated there was really nowhere to put my arms except thread them around his waist. I felt my hand graze his sizable belt buckle and something between my legs stirred. I decided then – I wanted to make this happen. I wanted to fuck Arthur on set. On this damn horse. Why not?

I cinched my arms tighter and leaned forward to murmur, “Giddy up” into his ear, pressing my body into his back as I did. His hips began lifting up and down as though the horse were trotting in a rhythmic gait. I let my hands wander up and over his stomach, down against his belt buckle. He looked back at me, a few strands of stray curls falling into his eyes.

“I’m glad you said something to me on Tinder. Or that your friend did. When we stopped talking a few months ago I was bummed, and I wasn’t sure it was you when I saw you PAing. But it was. And I’m glad.” He was smiling, two delicious dimples appearing in the stubble on either side of his mouth.

Before I knew what I was doing I was leaning forward and kissing him. He responded, his hands working up into my hair, his jaw opening and closing and working against mine. I could feel the scruff on his cheeks, the five o’clock shadow he had to be so careful to maintain per costume guidelines. His hands were at my back, running up and down it. They drifted towards the top of my ass, stopped and lingered, worked their way back up. I was blatantly gripping his belt buckle now and using it as leverage to keep my balance. We made out deeper, longer. Tongues and lips and teeth. Licking and purring and petting. I was getting dizzy. I’d barely registered that I was beginning to slip before I did, and only maintained my balance by gripping furiously onto Arthur’s belt.

Helping me back into the saddle he cooed, “Easy, partner,” and the kisses came again. His hands were at my neck, circling it. They were at the small of my back, my collarbone, the back of my skull. He’d turned around in a full one-eighty by now, riding the horse backwards so he could face me. I could feel an edge of restraint in him. His hands moved erratically, towards my breasts then quickly away as if suddenly becoming aware of the territory he was moving into. He was being respectful, that was cool. But I wanted him to grip my tits and pinch the life out of my nipples until they were drained of color and he needed to suck the blood back into them. That was what I wanted. And so I reached around to my sides and tugged my shirt over my head, letting my full tits swing braless in front of him. I’d stopped wearing bras ages ago. Needless wire bending my shoulders into a state of discomfort. Besides, being braless was opportune for moments like this. When you wanted to amaze. When you wanted to shock.

And he did seem shocked. He reared back, taking me in. My nipples were hard and pointed in the chilly studio air. I looked down and took in my C cups slung low across my chest, their natural hang a sight to behold. I was turning myself on. Between my legs the ridge of the prop horse’s back suddenly made itself known and I ground my hips down against it. Ahh, that was the spot.

Arthur whispered, “May I?” and at my nod reached forward to take a breast in each hand. His thumbs traced over my nipples, circling them before pinching each one slightly. I moaned and he pinched harder. I scooted forward so both of our groins were touching, and let mine grind forward and into his just slightly. The ridge of the horse’s back was hitting my clit at a teasing angle, sending little whispers of pleasure between my legs. I remembered a friend who rode horses telling me about this growing up, the secret bonus to being an equestrian with a vagina.

Arthur let go of my breasts and wound his arms around my back, pulling me closer. I could feel his belt buckle grazing my crotch now, and I reached down to where his button up was tucked into his jeans. I pulled it out and began unbuttoning him slowly, keeping unflinching eye contact the whole time. When it was fully open I could see the snake tattoo that wound across his stomach and up over his chest. The tail of it dipped down into his pants, disappearing.

“Wow. Well that’s a statement piece.” I teased him, tracing my fingers over the curls of the snake. The thing was massive and took up his entire stomach and chest. “Any double meaning there?”

He grimaced. “This always happens. It’s a cover up, actually. Kind of an intense piece, I know.”

“Not gonna lie, it’s really doing something for me.” I bent down and began to trace my tongue over it, planting small kisses along the way. Arthur laughed, stretching back. He reclined further until he was lying back against the horse’s neck, his arms stretched over his head. I was still kissing his stomach and began working my way down.

“Well, now I need to see where this thing goes when it disappears inside these Wranglers of yours.” I played with his belt buckle, letting it click and clack in my palm. “God, this thing is ridiculous.” I laughed. “What is it? Chrome?”

“You’d have to ask Andrea in costume design about that.”

I unbuckled him and slid the belt loose from around his waist. It slithered snake-like around his hips, and when the leather of it was all free I whipped him gently over the stomach before letting the belt fall to the floor where it collapsed with a rowdy clang. I unzipped his pants and heard Arthur moan in response. I could feel his hardness through the thick denim, and when I pulled his pants to the side and worked him out of his boxers, his cock stood fully erect in my hands.

I played with the tip, circling it with my thumb, spitting into my palm and letting the wetness in my hand lacquer his dick. I kept this up for a few minutes, teasing him, before I bent down and began sucking him off. I wrapped my lips and jaw and tongue around his dick, gagging myself with it, kissing him softly, licking in quick little laps. I took him out of my mouth and ran my tongue down the length of him, circling his ball sac and licking up the seam of it. He was gripping the horse’s mane above his head, tangling his fingers in the thick chestnut hair. My thighs were burning from the effort of cinching my legs around the horse’s stomach to steady myself. But it was a burn-so-good kind of feeling. And I was distracted by the task at hand.

I took all of Arthur into my mouth, feeling him edge down the back of my throat. I wrapped my lips around his base, and lifted my head slowly, feeling each individual ridge and vein as I slid him out. I slurped, pleased with myself, and spat on his dick. He moaned.

Suddenly he sat up and ripped off the shirt that was still loose around his shoulders. He reached for me and shimmied up the skirt I was wearing, scrunching it up over my hips with a hungry urgency. He placed one hand behind my back and reclined me backwards so I was lying down against the horse’s rump. He bent my legs up, and my feet held my balance precariously against the horse’s round stomach. This was a delicate operation, and I closed my eyes and focused on maintaining my balance, focused on the pulsing desire that was building in my cunt. I felt hot breath against my thighs as he bent forward. He kissed me at the crease of where thigh met hip, and my pelvis rocked upwards slightly against his mouth. His tongue traced over my underwear, and I felt his fingers move them to the side. Hot breath against my pussy. It felt like he was panting. I was sure my cum was dripping onto the fake fur of this horse, leaving an indelible mark. I didn’t care. My eyes were closed. My pussy was all I felt.

His mouth locked onto me and I felt his tongue flicking in a dedicated rhythm against my clit. One finger pressed against my opening, and he slid into me, his finger mimicking the motion of his tongue. A delicious warmth was spreading throughout my cunt, pleasure bending through me in crests and peaks. He took my clit between his lips and pressed down as though biting with no teeth. My nerves swole and sang.

He leaned back and held me by the ass, scooting me toward him. I was fully prostrate over the length of the horse, its back a sort of chaise lounge. At some point Arthur had shimmied out of his jeans and they lay crumpled on the floor beneath us. He arched over me, bracing himself by holding the roundness of the horse’s stomach. His dick was poised in the air over my slit, and he lowered his hips slightly, tracing his tip over my wetness. He was taunting me, pushing against me slightly and then pulling away. I loved this, the moment before someone buried themselves in me and every cell in my pussy vibrated at the slightest touch.

He bent forward and kissed me, his tongue flickering against mine, our lips parting and drinking and breathing one another in. My hands were in his hair, trusting him to steady us both. He pushed inside of me and I gasped. I felt my muscles stretch around him, insides moving aside to accommodate his girth. He bumped lightly against my cervix. This always pleased me, the edge of almost-pain it brought. I felt wetness drip down my ass crack. This poor horse was going to be a mess. I was being a bad little PA. Oops.

My hands traveled down his back as he began to move inside of me. I gripped his plump ass, thinking about how good it had looked in those Wranglers. I smacked him lightly, just to see if he liked it. He did. I spanked him again, harder. He pumped into me, I worked his ass. Together we were riding the hell out of this horse. Any cowboy would be proud.

 

I wanted to switch it up though. Missionary on a prop pony wasn’t quite enough for me.

“Hey, sit up. I want to ride your dick in your lap.”

He obliged, and as he straddled the horse facing me I moved forward and perched in his lap, sitting directly on his dick. He took my ass in his hands, lifting me up and down. I gripped his shoulders, using him as leverage to work my hips over his cock. He buried his face in my chest, taking each nipple alternately into his mouth and sucking. I bit his shoulder, my pussy a concentrated zone of ringing, humming pleasure. I moved a hand down and began to work my clit, feeling the walls of my cunt pulse and contract. I reached down and cupped Arthur’s balls, gave a light squeeze. He arched his neck back and groaned. The horse began to rock slightly, its legs wobbling for the first time since we’d mounted. I registered it briefly, but between his cock and my cunt, my mind was elsewhere.

The first crack was barely audible, almost a slight hiss that echoed throughout the set. I was fucking him voraciously, my thighs gripping his, my ass pumping up and down in a frantic rhythm. He assisted by grabbing my hips, lifting me, thrusting me down. By now the horse was fully rocking, forward and back, side to side. My motion was adding to ours, and the more wildly it rocked the more forcefully we plowed into one another. The sound was becoming thunderous between our wailing and the horse’s steel hooves grinding over the set floor.

By the time we realized what was happening it was too late. The horse’s front left leg dislodged with an ear-splitting crack and tumbled to the floor, sending the rest of the horse and us with it. We landed on top of the furry torso in a pile of limbs – both human and inanimate.

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” Arthur asked me, brushing flecks of fake fur off of his dick.

I was rolling on the floor laughing, the entire thing too ridiculous to grasp fully. This was going to be awful to explain to set design. But for now I was giddy at the spectacle of it.

“Oh my god, yeah I’m fine! This is ludicrous though, how are we gonna tell them about this?” I was nude and spread eagle. Arthur has found his belt curled up on the floor and was playfully smacking me with it over my thighs.

“Let’s, uh, let’s worry about that later?” He looked at me with an eyebrow cocked, his head bent to the side. His dick was still fully erect and I was not about to leave this set without getting off on it.

“That’s a good plan.” I said, hopping onto him amidst the pile of broken horse pieces. He turned me around and bent me forward so I was on all fours, and when he entered me from behind I reached back to massage myself. I felt myself building towards orgasm, and when Arthur pulled out and began tracing my lips and slit with the tip of his cock that did it for me. My fingers buried further against my clit and I came at the moment he thrust back inside.

“I’m coming,” I whispered. My hips rocked side to side, and my thighs clenched together tightly. I shuddered and my arms collapsed, leaving my ass poised sky-high as Arthur continued to fuck me from behind. I reached back and felt him moving in and out of me, his slick cock meeting my tight opening. Suddenly he pulled out and I heard him groan as he came all over my ass. Viscous cum dripped down my crack, around my asshole. We fell onto the floor, my head resting on his stomach as he played with my hair. We were silent for a long time as we each caught our breath and took in the damage we’d done.

“Well, we might lose our jobs over this.” He mused.

“Really, Drifter Number Two?” I patted the horse’s stomach. “Nothing a little Krazy Glue can’t take care of. Besides, aren’t they done shooting? I thought today was it.”

“Yeah, they are. It’ll be okay. I just feel bad for the pony is all.” He stroked the mane on the head which had dislodged and been flung somewhere to the right. “Jesus. Damn. That definitely wasn’t what I thought was going to happen. But okay.”

I circled my nipples with my fingers. “Remind me to thank my friend, Nina.”

“I’ll DM you about it. So, uh, Willow. You wanna hang out sometime?”

I rolled over onto my stomach and traced a finger along his snake tattoo. “Wild horses couldn’t stop me.”

On my way home that night I rolled all the windows down, feeling the Hollywood breeze whip through my hair as the sunset turned the sky shades of tangerine and lavender. I turned on the radio. “Old Town Road” bumped through my speakers right as Billy Ray was waxing poetic about Fendi sports bras. And this time? I turned that shit up.