God Wants Me To Dom Women

Chapter 15: [EX] Cowboy Kenny’s Quickdraw


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Every school has weird kids. It’s just a fact of life. I’m not trying to be derogatory to them, it’s just a statement of objective truth. Honestly speaking, you’ll have trouble finding people leading a more fulfilling existence than the weird ones. They’re the ones who pursue their interests, no matter the cost.

Our school has quite a few of these weird kids. Naruto running up and down the halls, Blaring anime openings on the speakers attached to their backpacks. But there’s only one weirdo who everyone knows. Cowboy Kenny.

Nobody knows why, how, or when, but at one point Kenny became obsessed with cowboys. From that day onward, he became a local legend. Every single day he wears the same Trench coat, cowboy hat, spurred boots, and stained graphic t-shirt to school. Every single day he talks in the same god-awful fake southern accent. Every single day he enjoys life to the fullest, despite being the butt of everyone’s favorite joke. It's not like this is a temporary obsession either, he's been doing this for years. 

I appreciate Cowboy Kenny in a way I don’t think many others do. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be unobtrusive, so to see someone who stands out so much, whether out of bravery, or pure social ineptitude, it sparks a tiny bit of envy. Then, of course, I hear people make fun of him behind his back and the envy immediately disappears.

You can always expect the same thing when it comes to Cowboy Kenny. He tips his hat to every woman he sees, says “howdy,” in a god-awful overacted southern accent, and continues on his way.

Today, for the first time ever, Cowboy Kenny did something I didn’t expect.

It’s been about a week since the school closed for investigation, and I hadn’t thought about him in at least as long.

I’ve been bouncing between Laura’s apartment, Carolyn’s home, and my own house in the time that the school’s been closed down. I’m currently at Laura’s apartment, and we’re having slow, pleasant sex on her couch.

She’s under me, with her hands harshly clinging to my shoulders, sinking her nails into my flesh.

“Sam...”

I’m thrusting into her, nearly at my limit. When it comes to sex, Laura likes closeness, so we’re doing it missionary, with me draped across her chest, leisurely thrusting inside of her. When I was only having sex with Carolyn, I used to think that I liked sex when it was rough and fast. I’m quickly learning that this slower, more passionate love-making has a great many merits as well.

Laura opens her eyes, leans up to me, and begins to give me a sloppy kiss as my slow, deep thrusts continue. 

We continue like this for a while, until finally, I can feel both of our crescendos reaching their peaks. I pick up my thrusting, and her moans begin to heighten. I’m right on the cusp of orgasming when a loud knocking emanates from Laura’s door.

My thrusting stops and I look at her. She looks just as surprised as I am. Because we’re in an apartment building, people just walking up and knocking on your door without any forewarning is pretty rare. The only thing that I think it can be is an annoyed neighbor upset at our loud fucking, or the fuzz are here to bring her in for her crimes.

Whatever, they can wait until after we’re done.

I resume thrusting, surprising Laura.

“Sam, I need to...” She lets out a light moan, “The door, Sam. Please.”

No can do.

I continue to slowly thrust into her, causing her moans to grow louder and louder.

*Knock* *Knock*

If they wanted a quick answer, they should’ve rung first, or at least informed us of their intention to come over. Now, they get to wait until we’re done.

It’s less than a minute until we both finish, with her letting out a loud moan and her stomach convulsing, signaling her orgasm. Finally, I pull myself off of her and begin to dress.

After we both dress, Laura goes and answers the door while I get out of view. It’s better if no one knows that I’m here, as we’re in something of an illicit relationship.

I hear the door open, and an unmistakable “howdy.”

Oh my fucking god.

“... Who are you?”

“Name’s Kenny, and I’m here fer yer heart.”

My. Fucking. Sides.

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“May this lowly rambler kiss your hand?”

“I… would prefer that you didn’t”

“Very well. I’m here ta announce my courtship.”

Laura doesn’t say anything in response. I think she’s too shocked to verbalize anything.

After an awkward pause, he continues, “I’m fixin’ ta announce my intentions ta yer pa. Is he around?”

Sometimes she calls me daddy, does that count?

Laura snaps out of her surprise and says, “How did you even get in here?”

“I waited for someone to open the door. Us cowfolk’re resourceful.”

“... Right. I’m happy that you feel that way Kenny, but I must decline.”

“Hold yer horses, a little quick on the draw there. Allow me to begin my wooing.”

He pulls out his phone, fiddles with it, and some scuffed country music begins to play through his phone’s speakers. The quality is so bad that the audio peaks out every few seconds. He begins to dance right there in the hallway.

The spurs on his boots make loud clinking noises as he performs some sort of strange hoedown dance in the hallway. He’s so into it that he closes his eyes and loses himself in the rhythm.

I think it’s time to reveal myself. I step into view of the door and walk behind Laura, draping my arm loosely but possessively around her hips. Together, we watch the dance of Cowboy Kenny’s life. The whole time, Laura wears a concerned look. I can’t keep the smile off of my face.

The music starts to fade, and I begin to applaud, with Laura awkwardly following my lead soon after.

Kenny takes a bow, and when he returns to his upright position he finally realizes that I’m there.

He locks eyes with me, and suddenly, I feel a shock run up my spine. I don’t know how I know, but he’s a player.

From the look on his face, he’s realized the same thing about me.

I return my hand to its position on Laura’s waist and pull her a little closer to me.

Kenny’s eyes bounce between me and Laura a few times, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing.

Finally, he gets it. “Darn shame, that.”

“That it is Kenny, that it is.” My good humor is gone. Now that I know he’s a player I have very little patience for him. I’m just waiting for him to make a move.

“Welp, I‘m not so boorish as ta woo a spoken-for woman.”

With that, he leaves.

That was my first interaction with another player.

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