Lesbian roots grow wild rhubarb down by the creek, otherwise known as river pumpkin. Chance LaRue watched the two women stalking the rhubarb. Chance just had to go say something to them. "Lesbians of the 1890's laid each other down in it, leaving the butter churn chore on the porch," Chance said to the two women, startling them.
"Indians used the roots to soften their buckskins, so there," the one woman said.
"How much horsepower in the 1965 mustang?" the other woman asked.
"Don't think I know, do you?" Chance LaRue said. She knew the pretty women were old enough to know Petticoat Junction.
"You pack the answer like you pack runes in your crotch, I'm sure you can tell us," the one woman said. "Nice bulge," the other woman said.
"Runes?" Chance looked down at her crotch. She was packing. "164 hp 260 c.i. V-8. Open the door for me, ladies?" Chance asked. Oh, this was fast! From mustangs to packing "futhark runes".
The women moved a boot step closer and approached Chance. They stared Chance down, their eyes locked on Chance's, and by feel, they unbuttoned and unzipped Chance's flannel-lined double L jeans from L.L. Bean. The women reached inside Chance's strap-on taking turns stroking Chance's cul - it. They tugged on the black strap of "runes" Chance was packing. "Name's Pony Girl," the one said. "Is this where the mustangs graze?" she asked, stroking the dildo tied down on Chance's left thigh. The other woman untied the latigo leather strip. "Name's Blaze Starr. Is this where mustangs...ahh...Pony Girl, I ride shotgun." The dildo held in the strap bounced free and the hard-on met with Chance's zipper. Pony Girl and Blaze Starr dropped to their knees, and then laid in the autumn red wild rhubarb with their legs spread.
"Pony Girl? Blaze Starr?" Chance LaRue smelled the women's sweet, leathery skin. There isn't a better lesbian totem, Chance thought...fuck, I have them right here, Pony Girl and Blaze Starr with the lynx, wolf, elk, beaver, quail, owl, eagle, and raven. Chance LaRue planted the rune in the rhubarb...
Copyright May, Sixteen, Two thousand nine, Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
