They use your top to tie you to the pommel

"I got an idea!" one of them exclaims, and hurries forward.

"What is it, Todd?" the bartender asks, but instead of answering Todd rushes up to you.

Still in a bit of a daze from the ride and the embarrassing orgasm you're too slow to stop him as he reaches up, darting hands undoing the now-loose knots holding your top on.

"Hey!" you protest, letting go of the pommel to try and retrieve your top.

Another pair of hands come out of nowhere, and between the two of them you suddenly find yourself tied topless to the mechanical bull's pommel.

"G... guys...." you plead, trying to hunch forward to hide your little breasts from view.

"Nice titties!"

"Kind of small, but I'd suck on 'em."

Opening your mouth to demand your freedom your words turn into a squeal as the bull's motor rumbles back to life. Clearly an old model the engine makes the saddle vibrate even at its initial slow speed.

At first your pink pussy sticks to the saddle. Even the fluids from your first ride are not enough to overcome the many years-worth of sticky fluids on the rough surface. As the machine picks up speed it bucks back and forth, but strangely doesn't seem to move sideways much.

Instead you find your body sliding along the saddle from front to back, but inevitably moving closer to the pommel. Finally the bull seems to kick into action and yanks you back and forth, snapping your hair in front of your face, blinding you to the sight of a man stopping outside the bar window to stare inward at you, and his subsequent entry through the front door.

With the increased movement you find yourself mashed up against the pommel, your clit squished against the hard grimy material. Abruptly the bull tilts backward, making you slide with a yelp all the way to the back of the saddle before it violently lunges up and forward.

Your butt leaves the saddle for a moment before you land, you pussy crashing down atop the narrow end of the pommel.

A cry leaves your lips, but between the rubbing and vibrations and you're not sure if it's pain, protest or pleasure.

The machine acts almost like it's being guided, staying tilted forward so that you perched atop the pommel while the bull moves straight up and down, the abrupt movements sending you off the pommel and then down onto it, impaling the end of the pommel a little bit into your pussy each time in spite of its thickness.

Somewhere in the middle of the thrashing of the bull you begin your own wild movements as another orgasm crashes over you while the bull frantically moves as if trying to fuck you with the pommel.

"Oh God," you moan as it finally dies down, slumped on the saddle until a hand grabs your hair, pulls your head back, and puts a glass to your lips. Without protest you swallow most of the liquid, the rest running down your front.