She arched her back, dug her heals into the mattress and strained her abdomen out as if she were pregnant. Pushing and pushing. Gradually approaching ...elease, holding her breath and straining her stomach out as far as she could and cradling the small feigned bump with her free hand, she thrust her finger, stabbing, back and forth over her clitoris, feeling her vaginal muscles relax as every other part of her body tensed, driving herself to orgasm, her mound ached in anticipation as she moved. That was hardly enough time to cock the hammer on a single-action pistol, so that could be why I did not draw another shot. I was not even thinking about the pain of being shot when I reached the bushes. I threw myself from my horse and drew my Starr with my right hand. I put my left hand against my ribs and did not feel any wetness. No blood!? This was as fishy as all get-out! I sure hurt like hell, but there was no blood. Okay, I would worry about that later, right now, I had a bushwhacker to. More

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