Thread: A Tale of the Old West (Isabelle & Master Machiavelli)

His smile broadened warmly as his little Sure Shot slipped into his lap, straddling him and he moved his neck and head to give Stella an easier time lathering his neck. The soap was warm against his skin and the brush, with it's soft bristles massaged his face as her expert hands worked it. His fingers wrapped around her small waist and he held her sides as Mal watched placidly with his ice blue eyes as Stella drew his cutthroat razor back and forth across the leather strop before turning back to him. He trusted her implicitly. The edge of the razor touched his throat and Mal was oblivious to it, feeling instead Stella shift forward on top of him. Her thighs pressing lightly into his to keep her balance as she leaned forward and more exquisitely the touch of her nipples covered by the thin fabric of her shift as they brushed against his chest. He inhaled softly through his teeth, knowing she was unaware of the effect she was having on him. He worried as he felt his dick awaken in response to feeling her sex as she absently rubbed against his. His hands moved from her waist, across the small of her back and over her perfect ass, each wrapping itself around the curve of her ass. Despite himself he held her there, savoring the feeling of her sex as it played against his. He wanted to kiss her, as a man kisses a woman- explore her mouth with his tongue and excite her as she excited him. But her question brought him back to Earth. It's been a long time my sweet. He answered, his voice lower and draped in desire. During the war... I was a Lieutenant by then, he reminisced as she drew the razor in a long stroke up his neck. Not much older then you are now- youngest in the Division as a point of fact. Mal opened his eyes and his smile only grew warmer at the sight of his beauty before him. We were in Savannah, down in Georgia. Things were bad at that point, hardly anything left provisionswise. Most of what we got we had to raid the Yanks for. Anyway, we rode into Savannah, maybe three hundred of us cavalry and a bunch of infantry and the mayor... well the mayor wanted to do something for the people and for us. Grant was makin' his way towards Atlanta and people just needed something to take their minds off things- they needed to remember the old times, the good times. So they threw a big dance, and what a sight it was. We all got our uniforms cleaned up nice, found polish for our boots and really made a fine night of it. He paused as the memory washed over him. Two days later we headed towards Atlanta, trying to stop ol' US Grant, but that never came to nothing. He ended his tale with a softer smile then before he'd begun. It had been a dark time for the man. He shook it off as he gazed into Stella's blue orbs and reached up with his left hand to stroke her face. That was the only time I've ever been to one of these sorts of things baby. But I've danced a time or two since then as well- although I can honestly say I've never had a better partner. The razor ran along his cheek, removing stubble as she went stroke, by long stroke. We'll need to find you the prettiest dress in the territory... you're the Belle of the ball!