Page 68 of My Darling Clementine

She reached for Clem, pulling her up for a kiss as her hands reached for the buttons on her jeans. “Put your new johnson in me again.” Kizzy’s teeth caught her bottom lip, her eyes sparkling as she grinned. “I liked it from behind,” she emphasized, “a lot.”

Swatting her hand away, Clem took over the unbuttoning, pulling her johnson out. “Then turn around and brace yourself.” She stood back to watch Kizzy kneel on her nightgown, then bend forward with her head on her arms, eyes filled with the sight of her.

Has anyone ever been as lucky as I am? She met Kizzy’s eyes, heated with desire.

“Like this?” Raising her naked ass, she wiggled her hips, which shook her back cheeks, and made her breasts jiggle.

Clem sucked in her breath. “Yes, that’s right, like that,” she said, getting set behind her. Leaning forward, she ran her hands over Kizzy’s naked body, kissed her back, caressed her breasts, and pinched her nipples. She nuzzled her neck and whispered into her ear, “Spread your legs and open for me, darling.”

In the flickering light of the suspended lamp, Clem leaned back and took another moment to appreciate Kizzy’s lush body, before guiding her leather johnson into her wet center.

“Yes, yes.” Kizzy gave an eager cry, pushing back against her until filled. “That’s it.” She looked over her shoulder, eyes smoldering. “Take me the same way you did out there.”

At her urging, Clem started stroking in and out with long, slow motions.

“Yessss,” Kizzy hissed with pleasure.

Clem started easy but soon increased her speed, using her strength.

Kizzy moaned, encouraging her to go faster. “Yes, like that.” She slammed back into Clem, urging her on.

With enthusiastic joy, Clem tightened her grip on Kizzy’s hips, pushing into her with vigor. “Oh yes, woman,” she groaned as the wagon filled with the sounds of their passion.

“Do it harder.” Kizzy grunted with each shove, tossing her head, her braid slapping her back. “Harder,” she demanded.

Clem grabbed her braid, pulled her head back, then double-timed her.

“Oh my God.” Kizzy panted, crying out, “Yes! Rougher, harder, like that – I… want… more!”

Reveling in her demands, Clem rocked faster, harder, deeper, rougher than she’d ever been before. Excited by the sights and sounds of Kizzy’s pleasure, her own climax roared to life, and she bucked against Kizzy’s ass, grinding her hips, and crying out, “Damn, woma…”

A loud knock on the side of the wagon shocked them into stillness. Too distracted to notice the noise they were making, the clatter of things rattling in the wagon settled around them into silence.

“Ahem, Dennison, a word?” The voice of the trail boss sounded loud, only a few feet away.

“Oh, hell,” Clem whispered, pulling out and kissing her shocked wife’s raised bottom. “You stay here, we’re not through yet.” She rose, tucked in her johnson, adjusted her clothing, and then stepped up to the driver’s box through the drawn canvas.

“Evening, Mr. Cushing,” Clem said, trying to look casual. “What can I do for you?”

The big man squinted up, rolling a finger along his mustache, smoothing it in place. “I stopped by to tell you I looked at your mule, and to talk over a couple of things. Seeing your wagon lit so bright told me you were still up, and wouldn’t mind company.”

He pulled off his hat, ducked his head, and avoided her eyes. “But as I got close I could hear this isn’t a good time.” He stuck his hat back on his head, speaking low. “Couldn’t make out the words being said, son, but some other noises caught my attention.”

Grateful for the dark night, Clem wondered if her burning face would crumble to ashes and blow away; she’d never been so embarrassed. But she’d be damned if Cushing was going to know that. Clem straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and nodded once in acknowledgment.

The trail boss smoothed his mustache again, then shot her a knowing look under a raised eyebrow. “You’re a healthy man with a pretty young wife, and it’s natural you want to get,” he cleared his throat, “closer, but you ought to know sound carries out here. And in darkness, light is an invitation to look.”

Clem kept her face as neutral as his, cringing inside at her foolish mistakes, “I appreciate you stopping by to let me know about the molly and,” she paused, “everything, Mr. Cushing.” She clamped down on a nervous laugh trying to escape, stuffing her hands deep in her pockets like a man. “I’ll come by your wagon around noon tomorrow to have that chat.” She looked him straight in the eye, nodded her thanks without smiling, then turned back into the wagon, tossing over her shoulder, “In the future we’ll be more discreet.”

“Much obliged,” she heard Mr. Cushing say, moseying off to bed down his wagon train. “Y’all have a good night,” he called back with a small chuckle.

Kizzy watched Clem climb back in with embarrassed eyes and red cheeks, once again wearing her nightgown.

“Did you hear any of that?” Clem asked.

Kizzy sighed. “No, you barely said a word and he spoke too low. Did Mr. Cushing hear us?”

“Not what we said, but he heard what we were doing, which means others can, too.” She pulled the candle shade down, darkening the wagon. She sat back on the box step and patted her knee. “Come here.”